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THE 
SPELL or EGYPT 



THE SPELL SERIES 



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from original drawings or special photographs. Octaoo, with dec- 
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"Per volume $2.50 net, carriage paid $2.70 

«^ 

THE SPELL OF ITALY 

'By Caroline cAtwater oTWason 

THE SPELL OF FRANCE 
By Caroline tAtwater cTWason 

THE SPELL OF SOUTHERN SHORES 
By^ Caroline cAtwater cTWason 

THE SPELL OF ENGLAND 

By^ Julia deW. c>4.ddison 

THE SPELL OF HOLLAND 

By Burton E. Stevenson 

THE SPELL OF SWITZERLAND 
By Nathan Haskell Dole 

THE SPELL OF THE ITALIAN LAKES 

By "William D. cTWcCrackan 

THE SPELL OF TYROL 
By William D. cTWcCrackan 

THE SPELL OF JAPAN 

By Isabel t>l.nderson 

THE SPELL OF BELGIUM 
By Isabel tAnderson 

THE SPELL OF SPAIN 

By Keith Clark 

THE SPELL OF FLANDERS 

By Edw/ard Neville Vose 

THE SPELL OF THE HOLY LAND 

By Archie Bell 

THE SPELL OF EGYPT 
By Archie Bell 

«$» 

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Spell gf Egypt 








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Archie Bell 








Author of " The Spell of the Holy Land, " ek. 










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With eight plates in fuU colour and many 
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PRESSWORK BY 

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C. H. SIMOND8 CO., BOSTON, U. 8. A. 



MAR 24 1916 



'CI.A4282SS 



FOEEWOED 

Somebody wrote: ''The books that have 
been written about Egypt, would dam the Nile," 
and since he wrote it enough more books have 
been written about Egypt to sink a dahabiyeh 
in the Father of Waters. 

Nevertheless, Egypt, which sometimes seems 
to have been the beginning of ahnost everything 
that plays a part in the contemporary life of 
man, is always new. The marvel is not the 
number of books about Egypt, but that so few 
have been written. Assuming that every book 
has its topic, there is reason for wondering why 
the writers of the world ever went beyond that 
inexhaustible land of topics. A book might be 
written about every square foot of Egyptian 
soil, every monument that raises its head above 
the ground, every cave in its honeycombed 
mountains, and every ripple upon the broad 
bosom of the river that gives the country life. 
Maspero, the famous Egyptologist, told me 
that, in his opinion, all the research and explora- 
tion of the past in this ancient country, all the 
knowledge that has been gained by the savants 



vi Foreword 

of the world, to the present time, is but a fore- 
runner, merely a beginning, of what will follow 
in the future. This remark, which referred 
chiefly to the purely technical and scientific 
probing into the past as related to the present 
and future, led me to believe that it applied as 
well to the un-technical and un-scientific view of 
Egypt. 

The land of the hoary past has become the 
playground of the present. But whereas most 
of the playgrounds of the world have been man- 
ufactured by contemporary men from stucco, 
and with imitation minarets and towers, the 
builders of Egypt began their task soon after 
the earth had become a fit habitation for man, 
and constructed it from granite, hewed it from 
marble, and moved mountains of stone in th^iir 
gigantic scheme of construction. 

Seeking a new playground, I went to Egy t 
and boarded the dahabiyeh ' ' Seti, ' ' chartered I y 
E. M. Newman for a cruise up the Nile. Sooa 
the dust of Egypt seemed to cause recollectioi 
of every other playground to fade from my vi 
sion. Other countries seemed to be imitations 
of tte amazing original. So I stayed on, after 
the dahabiyeh had finished its voyage and had 
been moored to the bank at ''Pharaoh's Gar- 
den" on the Island of Ehoda near Cairo. 



Foreword vii 

When Maspero assured me that the half had 
not been told in regard to the past, I was re- 
minded that less than haK has been told about 
the present. If there are myriads of unwritten 
books in the land of the lotus, there are likewise 
"libraries unrecorded" in its present. Thus 
this additional testimony to its everlasting 
charm. 

Jewish patriarchs of the antique world went 
to Egypt for grain, and found it; ancient 
Grecian philosophers went for knowledge, and 
found it; I went for enjoyment, and was re- 
warded, as were the others. 

Aechie Bell. 

Cleveland, 1915. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 
OHAPTEB 

Foreword ^ 

I. A Flowery Pathway 1 

II. Beyond the Gtate ...••••• ^7 

III. Dahabiyeh Days '^^ 

IV. Types of the Ancient World .... 101 
V. Miniature Cairos 121 

VI. Mummies and Holy Men 147 

VII. On an Egyptian Farm 164 

VIII. Strange Customs and Strangers . . -180 

IX. Gods of Love and Hate 194 

X. An Ancient Metropolis 212 

XI. In the Golden "Waste 237 

XII. Where East Meets West 253 

XIII. Visiting "Holy Places" 269 

XIV. An Egyptian Savant 294 

XV. "Dawn" of Equal Rights . . . • • -303 

XVI. Yellow Days and Azure Nights . . .312 

XVII. Beyond Human Knowledge 337 

Bibliography 361 

Index ^^^ 

ix 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



An Old Street, Cairo (in full colour) (See page 271). . 

Frontispiece. 
MAP OF EGYPT 1 ^ 

Women of the Azores in Street Dress • . . . 12 "■ 
Peasant Woman, Azores 1'* ' 

PONTA DeLGADA • .18 

Wine Cart drawn by Sheep 20 ' 

Carro or Ox Sled, Madeira 32 ^ 

Pompey's Pillar, Alexandria 61 •-' 

The Pyramids, GizEH (in /wZZ coZowr) . . . .76- 
Typical Mud Village on the Bank op the Nile 

River 84^ 

A Series op Shadufs 106 ■ 

ASakieh 108 ^ 

Egyptian Women of the Fellaheen Class . .110 

Temple of Luxor (in full colour) 122 

Street Scene, Minieh . . . .,•„•■• 1^4 

General View, Minieh 126 • 

An Egyptian Water Seller 128 ■ 

"Holy Man" at Assiout _ • .155 

Water Buffaloes ^ . • • 1^9 ' 

A Nubian Village {in full colour) . . . • .j • 1^7 

Group of Bishareen -•-.•• 1^^ 

BiSHAREEN Camp • • 1^0 

Bishareen Girls • • • 192 

Mounted Policeman 197 

xi 



xii List of Illustrations 

PAGE 

General View of the Temple of Hathor, 

Denderah 199 

Interior of the Temple of Hathor, Denderah . 201 
The Dabiyeh "Seti" at Kom Ombo .... 203 
Great TemflEjKomOmbo {in full colour) . . . 208 

Colossi of Memnon . . 215 

The Rameseum . . 218 

Sacred Lake, Karnak 222 • 

Interior of Temple, Karnak 225 

"Pharaoh's Bed" 240 

Phil^ Temple, showing waters caused by the 

AssuAN Dam 242 

Sand Diviner telling a fortune 244 

Palm Trees on the Bank of the Nile .... 246 

Temple of Abu Simbel 249 

Cairo, from the Citadel 254 

"Seis" preceding a carriage, Cairo .... 256 

An Arab Cafe {in full colour) 261 

Public letter-writer, Cairo 264 

Rhoda Island. Traditional spot where Moses was 

FOUND 273 

Water-carriers with goatskins 276 

Entrance to El-Azhar University, Cairo . . . 283 
Alabaster Mosque of Mehemet Ali, Cairo . . 286 
"Holy Man" in the Alabaster Mosque op Mehemet 

Ali, Cairo 288 

Sakhara 297 

A Cairo Merchant . . . . ., . . ^. . . 316 

The Muski, Cairo . . . ..... 322 

An Egyptian Bazaar {in full colour) .... 326 

Tombs OF the Mamelukes (tw /mZZ coZoMr) . . . 331 
Statue of Rameses II 333 



List of Illustrations xiii 

PAGE 

Obelisk of Heliopolis 335 

Nile Bbidge 340 

Bedouins at the Pyramids 342 

Mohammedan Cemetery, Memphis 349 

The Sphinx 352 



THE 
SPELL OF EGYPT 



CHAPTER I 

A FLOWEEY PATHWAY 

I 

^UES was to be a sentimental and leisurely 
l^tj tour of Egypt. That was agreed upon 
^~"""^ long before we went aboard the ship that 
was to carry us from American shores. If 
there are many different methods of surveying 
the ancient ''river that is Egypt," and the tem- 
ples and tombs that border its banks, there are 
also many ways of approaching the sunny land 
of the Pharaohs. And the traveler, although 
he will be given no credit for that distinction, 
should be of logical mind. If he has decided 
merely to lay aside his office papers for a few 
weeks and thinks, as he glances over the 
itineraries and glaring placards in a tourist 
agency, that Egypt offers as welcome a change 
from his daily routine as South America, 
Hawaii or the North Cape, it will be well for 

him to book passage on the swiftest ocean grey- 

1 



The Spell of Egypt 



hound that will carry him to European shores. 
Once on the continent, he may rush by ex- 
press train to Marseilles, Naples or Brindisi 
and make connections with a mail boat that 
seems to make a secondary consideration of pas- 
sengers, one that will toss and roll in the fickle 
Mediterranean, but which will land him in Alex- 
andria at the hour scheduled. A train, also 
carrying the mail, will whisk him over the bor- 
derland of delta and desert, and, scarcely before 
he is aware of it, he will find himself under a 
palm in the garden of Shepheard's, or seated on 
the terrace watching that endless procession 
where East meets West of which he had read 
highly coloured accounts when waiting for his 
tickets to be stamped back home. Or he may 
have telegraphed ahead for the dahabiyeh that 
will be waiting for him by the river bank. Per- 
haps he will have an almost frantic desire to 
capture the Nile record for speed between Cairo 
and Assouan. Men have drifted for weeks over 
the same waters, but they were not men of the 
twentieth century. Where ancient galleys loi- 
tered against contrary winds or currents for 
days, the steamboat now plows along at terrific 
speed; and there is always a relief in knowing 
that if one tire of the monotonous river, there is 
a railway on the river banks. The dahabiyeh 



A Flowery Pathway- 



may be left for the remainder of the trip to its 
trusty crew, while one dashes along overland, 
merely touching the so-called "high spots" of 
Egypt — Karnak, Luxor and Assouan, where tea 
is served at the usual hour for tea at home, 
where luncheon is as formal as in a Paris hotel, 
and where there is all the parade and ghtter 
around the dinner-table that one might find 
along the French or Italian Eiviera in Feb- 
ruary. 

Then, one day, the train whisks one back to 
Cairo. More coohng drinks and cigarettes on 
Shepheard's terrace, and, almost before he is 
aware of it, again the breathless tourist reverses 
his outgoing program and finds himself back 
among his office papers. He has * ' done ' ' Egypt. 
Ask him and he dares not admit otherwise; 
Egypt is an ideal place for a change and rest. 
He advises his friends to take the tour that he 
enjoyed last season. ''All the arrangements 
are now made for you in a moment," he de- 
clares, "all they want is your money; and, when 
they get that, you enjoy all the comforts of 
home. ' * 

Too great speed cannot be recommended to 
our old friend, "the tired business man" and his 
wife, who feels that she must be able to converse 
"intelligently" of Egypt as her grandmother 



The Spell of Egypt 



spoke of Saratoga. For the barriers have been 
let down. One travels to Cleopatra's country 
as comfortably, and, perhaps, with less fatigue 
than one formerly reached the American spas. 
Wealth and fashion have decreed in favour of 
Egypt just as they did in favour of Pompeii or 
Versailles, and the decree was no more compel- 
ling in that older day than it is in ours. One 
believes that the capricious dame is becoming a 
little more discriminating in the selection of 
locale for her comedy of manners. Perhaps the 
merest glance at Egypt is preferable to no view 
at all. Perhaps there is no heart so insensible 
to the beautiful that it will not quicken to the 
spell of the Nile country. At least, the bustling 
tourist deposits his dollars in a land where there 
appears to be sore need of them, and he is a 
shrewd and wise man who never contributes his 
money to a less satisfying cause. 

But we had made different plans. Perhaps 
we had read of that French priest encountered 
in the fastnesses of the Canadian Eockies. 
Asked for an explanation of such wanderings, he 
replied that he had once dreamed that he died 
and at the inquisition of Saint Peter, ''What did 
you think of the earth where you spent so many 
years?" he was obliged to admit that he had 
never seen anything of the world beyond the 



A Flowery Pathway 



French village where he was born. When he 
awakened, he vowed that he would see something 
of the beautiful world that had been created for 
man, and, when discovered amid the wonders of 
the Eocky Mountains, he was fulfilling the vow. 
Perhaps we had not dreamed of death and the 
serious consequences of our necessary reply if a 
question were addressed to us regarding a 
speedy impression of Egypt, but we held to a 
mental opinion similar to that of the priest. 
Ours was to be a sentimental pilgrimage. We 
would not inhale the atmosphere at a gulp be- 
tween luncheon and dinner. We preferred not 
to breathe it at all, but to remain long enough 
for it to penetrate the pores of our skin and 
finally reach our hearts, impelled by the vertical 
rays of a tropical sun. And our first move in 
line with this determination was to select some 
leisurely going Atlantic steamer that would 
plow along an ocean lane between the two coun- 
tries, one that would take us in its keeping at an 
American port and then gradually, but surely, 
carry us to the bosom of old Egypt. We wanted 
Egypt to arrive by slow degrees. We wanted 
to approach it with meek humility, as children 
craving adoption, and not as rude outsiders, 
merely brushing its elbows at meeting. Per- 
haps it was too much to ask and expect, but we 



The Spell of Egypt 



relied upon her ancient and maternal magnet- 
ism. At least we felt that we had prepared our- 
selves to go upon the stage so alluringly pre- 
pared with settings that men, since there were 
men upon the face of the earth, have felt the ir- 
resistible summons. 

To the leisurely going traveler it seems that 
the pathway between America and Egjrpt is 
strewn with flowers. There is a long stretch of 
water that has no turning and with only a couple 
of flower patches that prompt one to hesitate 
before he arrives at that giant granite gateway, 
Gibraltar, the Pillars of Hercules, which seem 
appropriately to be sentinels guarding the ap- 
proach of trespassers. Beyond them the east- 
bound tourist knows there is the land of mys- 
tery, but the unknown of the past is no more 
mystifying to the modern mind than was the 
broad expanse of blue that lay westward of Gi- 
braltar when the ancient easterner was broaden- 
ing his horizon by following the setting sun. 
The great gateway seems to separate the old 
from the new, the present from the past; but 
its doors are open, inviting frequent communi- 
cation between the two. The flowing pathway 
bears the people of the world, inside or outside, 
as they choose ; and the gate becomes but an in- 
cident, like the passing of a stile in a long, 



A Flowery Pathway 



flowery lane, over which the sun is constantly 
shining. And yet one cannot fail to recall that 
perhaps this brilliant lane is not so sumptu- 
ously flowered as in that earlier day when the 
beautiful continent stretched from shore to 
shore, across the great waste that now takes the 
fastest steamers several days to cover. But to- 
day there are flowery milestones, little groups of 
islands that no doubt were one day the moun- 
tain peaks where the gods and goddesses of 
mythology lived and became immortal. The 
volcanoes grumbled and the beautiful country 
fell into the ocean, according to the scientists, 
and cruising around in these sapphire summer 
seas one likes to accept the scientific conjecture. 
Nowadays, however, the Atlantic liner plows 
along several days with its bow towards the east 
before land is sighted. And when, finally, after 
six days on the ocean, we came on deck and saw 
a deep purple line on the horizon that we sus- 
pected was the first of the Azores islands, we 
felt that we were approaching the first of the 
beautiful outposts of that tremendous fortress 
Gibraltar, and we were much impressed by this 
first view of islands that have too long been 
neglected by Americans who now seem to pene- 
trate everywhere, but who, in their rapid flights 
to Europe, and back, seldom obtain more than 



8 The Spell of Egypt 

a passing glimpse of one of the most beautiful 
of all Portugal's possessions. 

Of course we knew that we were to visit the 
Azores. The tourist agencies have an attrac- 
tive way of announcing all of these little side 
jaunts in a long cruise. Somehow, from a 
glance at one of the advertising posters, you get 
the idea that in these beautiful islands all is 
summer. There is usually a dusky maiden 
posed under a palm tree. Perhaps she is lan- 
guidly fanning herself or waving a scarf to a 
passing ship. It is romantic and attractive. 
But beyond this picture of the Azore maiden, a 
palm tree, and the fact that we were to take on a 
load of pineapples at Ponta Delgada, we did not 
know much about the spot on the earth's surface 
that we were approaching. The Azores was in 
all of our minds a rather indistinct name re- 
called from childhood geographies. We knew 
that they were out here somewhere in the ocean, 
but none of us realized that when the ship was 
pointing towards Ponta Delgada, we were ap- 
proaching the third largest and most important 
city belonging to the Portuguese repubhc — 
honours resting respectively with Lisbon, the 
capital, and Oporto, which most of us have 
imagined was the home of port wine, although 
we didn 't know much else about it. 



A Flowery Pathway 



The ship 's chart, posted in the companionway 
to show the daily runs, had a few dots marked 
''Azores." But what was there? It is always 
exciting to approach land from the sea, and 
doubly so when it is strange land. It is doubly 
exciting when it is not only terra incognita to 
yourself, but to the fifty-year-old lady who sits 
next to you at table and during the breakfast 
hour insists upon telling you where you should 
abide when you are in Amsterdam, Eome or 
Florence. She knows where there are cheap 
pensions run by respectable but impoverished 
English women in most of the islands of the sea 
and the great cities beyond the sea. But even 
she was forced to admit that she knew nothing 
of the Azores. It seemed to distress her to be 
obliged to make this admission. 

It has always seemed to me quite incredible 
that the tourist agencies, so alert in other mat- 
ters, have quite overlooked the talking lady of 
fifty years. She is heard by every one on a 
steamship. Her age entitles her to a certain re- 
spect, and she can do more drumming up for 
hotels and ''sights" than all the tourist litera- 
ture that is printed. After they had overheard 
her at the table, I saw a number of people gath- 
ering around her on deck and in the salon. 
"Where would you advise stopping in this or 



10 The Spell of Egypt 

that city?" And she had an answer for every 
one of them that appeared to satisfy. 

We looked in the ship's library for something 
about the Ilhos dos Agores, as the Portuguese 
know their possession in the Atlantic, but the 
purser tells us that unless we have some com- 
mercial interests there, we are not likely to know 
even their location. They lie about two thou- 
sand miles from the American coast. And we 
are not so ignorant at home. We know who dis- 
covered America, and we think we know who 
discovered the North Pole, but no candidate for 
having discovered the Azores has yet proved his 
case. They have maps in Venice bearing the 
date of 1436 that show the islands correctly 
placed, but nobody knows how the wise geogra- 
phers came to place them there. The Isles of 
Hawks received their name from the birds that 
frequent the seashore. It is possible that the 
rather unstable government of Portugal has had 
a deterrent influence upon the proper develop- 
ment of the islands, and there is a distinct ri- 
valry between them and the Madeira group, 
which lies only two days further south, but one 
quickly changes his opinion of the insular Portu- 
guese after arriving here. The people are in- 
dustrious for semi-tropical peoples, every 
square foot of land seems to be under cultiva- 



A Flowery Pathway 11 

tion, and it is the opinion of many travelers 
that the islands are just coming into their own 
and that they will be much heard from in the 
next few years. 

The Azores were an asylum for broken-down 
aristocracy of Portugal, and there are many 
residences that have belonged to members of the 
nobility. 

The most convincing ocular proof of such 
things as the Darwinian theory of evolution is 
the man-size ape which rides bicycles, smokes 
and does other things in imitation of man. So 
the best modern proof of the lost Atlantis, is the 
chain of volcanic islands that dot the Atlantic 
ocean from Gibraltar westward. The hilltops 
are still spouting smoke and hot water — al- 
though there has not been a violent eruption in 
this particular group for something like three 
centuries, but these big piles of lava and ashes 
are the ruins of a great catastrophe. They 
would remain a smoking pile of ashes and lava 
like Vesuvius if it were not for the warm gulf 
stream that flows along in this direction. As 
soon as the waters touch them, they seem to 
burst into bloom. Palms wave on their shores, 
great masses of flowers literally crowd them- 
selves over the rocky walls from the coast-line 
to near the top of the hills. They produce the 



12 The Spell of Egypt 

finest fruit known to man, the sea hereabouts 
swarms with fish, and life must be easy, al- 
though it might become monotonous with its 
everlasting calm. 

We sat peering towards the beautiful island 
of St. Michael's, the most important of the 
Azorean group, and, although we did not know it 
at the time, we were destined to peer for some 
time. Off in the bay lay the beautiful city of 
Ponta Delgada, with its white, pink and green 
houses, surrounded by coloured walls and bril- 
liant gardens, so that it aU looked like a turn in 
the kaleidoscope, but the sea was running too 
high to attempt a landing. The captain kept 
our ship well out to sea, for there are treacher- 
ous rocks hereabouts, some of which reach al- 
most to the surface, and it is not in the nature of 
sea captains to venture close to land so that 
their expectant passengers may have a closer 
view of what is dehghting them. None of the 
larger lighters ventured near to us, but, after a 
while, towards noon, we saw a tiny launch bob- 
bing around on the waves like a cork. It had 
bravely ventured from the little stone pier and 
was coming out to us with the port doctor, the 
customs officials, and all of the other officials of 
port. The little craft afforded us much amuse- 
ment as we watched it jump from wave to wave, 




WOMEN OF THE AZORES IN STREET DRESS. 



A Flowery Pathway 13 

but after its passengers had been safely landed 
we ventured the request that some of us be per- 
mitted to accompany the expedition on its home- 
ward trip. We were assured that our ship 
would lie at anchor until evening — and we had 
come a long way. It might be our only chance 
to see Ponta Delgada. And of all places in the 
world, some of us soon began to feel that we 
wanted to see Ponta Delgada most. 

The captain assured me that the sea was 
likely to become calmer during the day; at any 
rate, it would not be any worse towards even- 
ing in all probability; so they who desired be- 
came the guests of Portuguese officialdom for 
the day. And although the launch bobbed up 
and down a good deal, although we had several 
duckings and considerable trouble in reaching 
the thing as we were let down at the steamer's 
side, we landed at the old stone stairway, at the 
foot of the city, without mishap. "Never was 
any one drowned trying to come ashore at Ponta 
Delgada," said the Portuguese doctor; so we 
took hope for our return voyage and merrily 
began the rounds of our terra incognita. 

About the first thing that struck our eyes was 
the peculiar dress of the natives. Of course, 
the inhabitants are insular in everything — all 
people are if they live on islands, even English- 



14 The Spell of Egypt 

men. But they are a long way from the beaten 
paths of the world in these islands, and while 
some of the smart folk who come from Lisbon 
follow the Paris styles and keep up a certain 
state, the rest of the natives do not seem to care. 
What was good enough for their grandfathers 
is good enough for them. The men seem to be a 
little more ''progressive" than the women. 
They have quite adopted the European costume, 
but the women cling to old styles, and it seemed 
as we walked up the first street, amid the 
strangely garbed women, that we had landed at 
some island where the female sex belonged to a 
sisterhood. They wear the capote, a long dark 
blue cape, that is surmounted by a big hood that 
buries the wearer's face far from sight. At the 
back the thing is supported by whalebone or 
wire, so that when madam floats down the street 
she looks much like a full rigged ship. Further 
out in the country, however, we realized that the 
ladies we had seen in town were ''dressed up." 
The peasants are picturesquely garbed in bright 
colours, and most of the women seemed to be 
carrying jars of water or baskets which they 
poised gracefully on their heads or shoulders, 
sometimes balancing two or more as they 
plodded along back to their cottages. 
For many years these islands basked in the 




PEASANT WOMAN, AZORES. 



A Flowery Pathway IS 



sun, and were visited chiefly by leisurely Eng- 
lish, Spanish and Portuguese travelers, who 
came ostensibly to cure their bodily ills — and 
some of them remained to grow lazy in the ener- 
vating climate. Now the Atlantic liners fre- 
quently pause here for a few hours, giving many 
people the chance to run ashore and swarm the 
postcard shops, visit the gardens, to which visit- 
ors are admitted on *' steamer days," visit the 
plazas that are the center of all cities of Latin 
building — something more beautiful and charac- 
teristic than American city builders have yet 
devised — and on these days the little island folk 
prove themselves to be wise business men. 
Perhaps they lounge about and rest a good deal 
of the time, but when they sight a steamer 
anchored off their port they fully appreciate 
what we mean by the *' struggle for existence," 
These are "pay days." 

If it is a Yankee steamer they gaily decorate 
the front of their little shops with the Stars and 
Stripes — and I am told that it is the same thing 
if a German or Italian boat venture this way. 
They reap a neat harvest these wonderful days. 
Then the steamers depart, the flags come down 
and they settle back into their routine life. 

At the top of the landing place I was politely 
greeted by Michael. I did not know this young 



16 The Spell of Egypt 

gentleman before, but his memory will remain 
green with me. He quickly assured me that it 
would afford him the greatest pleasure of his 
life to escort me around the beautiful island, 
and, not wishing to deprive any one of such a 
pleasure, I engaged him, and gave myself over 
to his tender mercy. 

Michael was a fine-looking chap, who might 
have been taken for his former lord and master, 
King Manuel of Portugal. Unqualifiedly I de- 
clare him to be the politest robber I have ever 
met. But he had his compensations. Evi- 
dently he was something of a ''sport," as such 
things go in Ponta Delgada, and he spoke sneer- 
ingly of some of the customs of his fatherland. 
For example, I asked him if they ever had a 
bull fight in Ponta Delgada. "Yes," he re- 
plied, "we have them, but they are pretty tame 
affairs." Oh, this Michael was well-versed in 
AjDierican slang. Assuredly we were not the 
first Yankees who had ever entrusted themselves 
to his guiding ! 

From Michael's description, the bull fights 
here must be a little tamer than some of those 
similar affairs that are held in the faraway 
Spanish countries to the south of the United 
States. "The bulls are tame as kittens," said 
he, "and they put padding around their horns 



A Flowery Pathway 17 

so they cannot hurt anything they touch. It 
takes a lot of teasing to get them started at all." 
However, it was plain from his description that 
the little fellow apes the big fellow. The nobil- 
ity and aristocracy attend the exhibitions, dress 
gaily and imagine that they are having a good 
time of it. And their brothers and sisters in 
Lisbon and Madrid can do no more. 

As we drove around, Michael assured us that 
oranges used to sell for about a cent a hamper- 
ful — about thirty or forty of them. We found 
no such bargains, and the polite gentleman who 
handed us a big sack of golden fruit charged an 
English shilling. But we were well paid for 
the expenditure. If there are sweeter oranges 
in the world I have not come across them, and 
one cannot expect the owner of a plantation to 
raise more than about a. half dozen oranges for 
a cent. 

Perhaps the fruit crop has fallen off, or the 
demand has become greater, for Michael says no 
longer do the farmers leave the oranges to the 
pigs, in great piles under the trees. They ship 
them to England and to Portugal, when the big 
ships come to carry away the pineapples; and 
in London this Azorean fruit is commencing to 
bring fancy prices. All the pineapples are 
raised under glass, but no artificial heat is ad- 



18 The Spell of Egypt 

ministered, and the fruit grows to be a foot in 
length, is of peculiar flavour and much desired 
by the dealers. We drove out to one large farm 
that was ''under glass," and the old gentleman 
in charge, with Michael acting as interpreter, 
told that he had made one shipment that netted 
him something like $1.50 a-piece. 

The streets of Ponta Delgada are narrow, 
paved with wood or chunks of lava, and they 
seemed to be quite clean. The entire city seems 
to be spotted here and there at frequent inter- 
vals with recreation parks similar to the plazas of 
European cities. But here nature has assisted 
the landscape gardener by the strange volcanic 
formations. There are many beautiful natural 
grottoes, over which wisteria vines hang their 
purple bloom in dense clouds. There are palms 
and tree ferns, countless varieties of century 
plants, bougainviUea vines as large at the base 
as the trunks of trees, masses of red geraniums 
that tower toward the top of garden walls and 
great fuchsia shrubs as large as small trees at 
home. Calla lilies burst into bloom every- 
where. During our ride into the country we 
plucked great armsful of them to bring back to 
the steamer dining-room tables. We saw helio- 
trope plants six feet high. 

Then, as a grand climax to the floral profu- 



A Flowery Pathway 19 

sion, we drove out to the palace of the Portu- 
guese nobleman, Jose Do Canto, where the late 
King Carlos of Portugal was entertained when 
he made his memorable visit to the islands. 
Here is a wonderful garden, which contains 
three thousand distinct species of plants, 
botanic wealth that cannot be matched in many 
other localities of the earth's surface. After 
seeing this garden we somehow lost our enthusi- 
asm for the others that we saw. The fine old 
gentleman left it to the city when he died, and 
his will contained a certain amount yearly for 
its maintenance that the people of the city he 
loved and its visitors might have the pleasure 
of seeing it. 

Over many of the doors of cottages in the 
country we noticed little bunches of herbs. 
These are charms against the evil spirit, and 
while Michael assured us that this was very 
''old-fashioned" and ''ridiculous," we had sev- 
eral glimpses into these neat and well-kept cot- 
tages, and as the smiling faces peered out at us 
as we passed we felt certain that either the herbs 
or something had helped to keep trouble from 
their doors. It seems to me that here I found 
the best evidence of the fact that man adapts 
himself to the conditions in which he finds him- 
self, and usually makes the best use of what lies 



20 The Spell of Egypt 

within his reach. Here, for the first time, I saw- 
sheep used as beasts of burden, and it was not 
so uncommon that the few I saw seemed to be 
the exception. Almost all the small carts being 
drawn about the city were hitched to little dumb 
animals, which bear some physical resemblance 
to the goat, but are not exactly like the goat in 
disposition. Perhaps there is no good reason 
why a sheep should not draw a cart, but one 
rather thinks it has performed its mission after 
it has produced wool and then becomes the mut- 
ton of our tables. 

When Michael found that I was very much in- 
terested in this outfit, which was peddling wine 
about the city, he seemed to come to the conclu- 
sion that I would be interested in vehicles of all 
sorts, so he proudly brought me to the entrance 
of the office of a steamship company where the 
agent 's automobile was standing beside the curb. 
There are only two or three automobiles in the 
islands, and when I showed much more interest 
in the sheep carts and the bullock carts, on which 
sugar cane was being drawn to the steamer, he 
did not have much respect for my judgment of 
things. 

No visit to the Azores would be complete with- 
out some comment upon the peculiar currency 
system. Soon after one lands he visits the post- 



A Flowery Pathway 21 



office, for lie is certain to send a card or letter 
back home. Pass a small English coin through 
the window and you receive in return so much 
change that it seems barely worth while to make 
a full accounting. The money here, however, is 
the same as that in use in the republic of Portu- 
gal, but it passes in the islands at a premium of 
twenty-five percent. So five hundred reis (pro- 
nounced race) in Portugal becomes six hundred 
and twenty-five in the Azores. But Portuguese, 
English and even American money is readily ac- 
cepted by the natives, all but American paper 
money. That does not look like money at all, 
and anxious as they are to get hold of a tourist's 
purse, they do not set much stock in the little 
greenbacks that he has tightly folded and hidden 
away. When I offered our driver an American 
bill, he would not accept it in payment for his 
services until he had called a sort of consulta- 
tion on the sidewalk, in which a dozen or more 
natives offered their advice. The crowd passed 
favourably upon it, so he took it, but he went 
away with a cheated look. He did not seem to 
think that I had paid him real money. As 
nearly as I could figure, an English pound, 
which we consider worth approximately five dol- 
lars, is worth five thousand reis in the Azores. 
Thus when we made arrangements to be taken 



22 The Spell of Egypt 

to the hot springs and the geysers, it seemed 
somewhat high when the driver glibly an- 
nounced that it would cost us ten thousand reis 
to make the journey. But, after all, things do 
not cost so much here, and perhaps this currency 
system is only a survival of that Old World love 
for exaggeration. 

These islands may be the home of the broken- 
down aristocracy of Portugal, but people here 
seem to assign less dignity to titles and such 
things than they do in republics of vastly 
greater population. Today Michael took us 
past the farm of a prosperous gentleman who 
was much beloved by his countrymen. They 
asked him to become their candidate for the 
Portuguese parliament, but he declined. Fi- 
nally they became insistent and called upon him 
in a body and assured him that he had been 
promised a title of some sort if he would accept 
the nomination. Still he declined, and the same 
people came back with the Lisbon promise to 
create him a marquis, if he would consent to rep- 
resent the country in the nation's capital. 
Finally, in sheer desperation, it seems, he ac- 
cepted, and went away to Lisbon, after having 
extracted the promise from every one concerned 
that whatever he did he would not be * * rewarded 
by a title.'' 



A Flowery Pathway 23 

As we ride about the island of St. Michael 
every foot of space seems to be under cultiva- 
tion, and the farmers are constantly trying new 
crops. Once it was a great grape-growing coun- 
try and the wine was much in demand for 
export. I saw it sold in the streets from the 
sheep carts for five cents a quart. I tasted it 
and found it to be fruity stuff, not unlike the 
California claret which sells at home for about 
ten times that price. 

Bhght struck the grapevines in the Azores 
several years ago, so the farmers rather aban- 
doned their vineyards. But they did not allow 
the soil to remain idle. They planted all sorts 
of tropical fruits, and now they have brought 
two expert tea growers from China, who have 
produced a product that has been much praised 
in Portugal and is largely consumed in the 
islands. 

The vegetation here continues to surprise us, 
as we drive about, but inquiry proves that 
Michael, our guide, is wrong. He says that 
everything we see growing was here when the is- 
lands were discovered. It is the most favoured 
land on earth, he says, although he admits that 
he has never traveled further than twenty-five 
miles, the length of the island on which he lives. 
It is quite likely, however, that most of the 



24 The Spell of Egypt 

shrubs and trees, as well as most of the flowers, 
came to the Azores originally in the baggage 
of the settlers, who made experiments. Many 
things, however, were perhaps as native here 
as elsewhere. Perhaps the salt waves of the 
ocean brought the cocoanuts here, for it has been 
proved that these will sprout, after they have 
drifted about for years and finally become im- 
bedded in the sand on the shores. Then, after 
a while, the time comes when the coast is fringed 
with these stately plumes. The scientists have 
repeatedly proved that a bird wading about in a 
marsh may carry enough seeds upon the dirt 
that clings to its feet to start many species. 

And in all the long voyage across the Atlan- 
tic, the birds deserted our ship only a few hours. 
They drift a thousand miles to sea from all di- 
rections, and perhaps venture across, in some 
of their long flights. But, outside of these 
birds, the islands have a small fauna. These 
islands were named for the ''hawks" on the 
shore, the Canaries were named for the wild 
dogs that the early explorers found there in 
large numbers — ^perhaps the descendants of 
canines left by earlier voyagers. There are 
small things like lizards, and in some of the 
remoter hills, a variety of mountain sheep has 
been found, but who can say that these have not 



A Flowery Pathway 25 



descended from our domestic animals, after 
having been left in this paradise-wilderness to 
shift for themselves? 

After hearing Michael's sneering remarks 
about the bunches of herbs over the cottage 
doors, that drive the evil spirits away, I was in- 
terested to find out some of the other super- 
stitions of the natives. It isn't unreasonable 
to believe that such childish and ignorant people 
should have their own explanations of the spout- 
ing springs and smoking demons lurking under 
these islands and something must be done to 
propitiate them. Perhaps their strong reli- 
gious faith does much for the peasants, but it 
does not entirely dispel their dread of the "evil 
power." The church is the center of their 
social life. There are few entertainments but 
the fiestas, arranged on saints' days, when little 
entertainments are provided on the hillsides, 
little games played and little dramatic perform- 
ances given, after the sacred relics have been 
paraded through the streets of the city. 
Michael assured us that he is not at all super- 
stitious, but he knew that the blood of a black 
hen mixed with pumpkin made a cure for many 
bodily ills. Not all diseases may be cured by 
the hot springs, he said. When the moonlight 
falls on a baby, it is a very good plan to have a 



26 The Spell of Egypt 

sharp knife and cut the rays as they strike the 
child's flesh, else it may mean disaster in later 
life, and his mother had told him that after six 
male children had been born in succession, the 
seventh child was sure to be a strange creature. 
It would be a better thing if there should be no 
seventh child, for it is likely to take on the form 
of the first animal it sees and it will take much 
doctoring to effect a cure. 

All of the people who come here from Amer- 
ica, even, are not *'nice." Some of them have 
crossed eyes, and when they enter a store to 
purchase postcards, on which they pause to 
write "nice place, wish you were here," some 
member of the household is likely to daub mus- 
tard on the door to counteract the evil influ- 
ence. And never sleep while a funeral proces- 
sion is passing your door ; if you do, you will be 
the next one to take the long, sad ride to the 
"city of evergreens." 

Michael says that rents, like the price of 
oranges, used to be very low in St. Michael's 
island. A long time ago some of the Portuguese 
gentlemen and ladies, who did not find it con- 
venient to stay at home, for political and other 
reasons, merely transferred their goods and 
chattels to the Azores, and here they lived in 
semi-regal style, as did the Spanish grandees 



A Flowery Pathway 27 

who came early to the possessions in the New 
World. But they died, and their descendants 
have drifted back to the mother country, but 
they left their beautiful residences, gardens and 
farms behind them. Thus most of the tourists 
who come here and take a drive, promise them- 
selves that some time they will come back and 
remain a long time ; some of them even hope to 
miss the ship and take a later one for their 
destination. 

Down until recently, during the last ''boom'' 
that has come to the Azores, beautiful villas, 
surrounded by flowering and fruit gardens, have 
been leased for from one hundred dollars to two 
hundred dollars a year. Servants cost but two 
dollars to three dollars a month, including their 
food, which consists chiefly of black bread and 
cabbage soup. In fact, one American reports 
that he took a beautiful place, kept three 
servants and supported himself, wife and daugh- 
ter at a cost of about one dollar and ninety cents 
a day. 

There are nine islands in the Azores group, 
and St. Michael's is the most important. Ponta 
Delgada is the capital and chief city, the resi- 
dence of the governor and the social center. It 
seems that a man instinctively drifts toward a 
center of population, and, when there is but one 



28 The Spell of Egypt 

city, it means more to him than London means 
to England, or New York to the United States. 
Ponta Delgada sets the fashions. It is to the 
Azores almost what Mecca is to the Mohamme- 
dan. 

After we had reached the steamer, and had 
the leisure to take some mental account of this 
busy excursion of a day into one of the neglected 
beauty spots on the earth's surface — it may 
have been association of ideas, for our compel- 
ling thought during these days is of Egypt — ^we 
could think of the Azores only as one of the 
flowery mile-posts on our way to Alexandria. 
Doubtless this thought never occurs to the pas- 
senger bound for Gibraltar or any of the various 
Mediterranean ports, that mark the commence- 
ment of a continental jaunt. But the voyager 
to Europe cannot have such dreams and antici- 
pations as the one who knows that the bow of his 
ship is pointed toward the Nile delta. Europe 
has its monuments mossy with age, but the land 
of our thoughts makes the oldest monument of 
Europe seem to be of yesterday's labour. And 
we would gradually draw near to her gates, loi- 
tering by the wayside, stopping amid strange 
fields of flowers, the like of which we have never 
before seen. And we had not ceased rehearsing 
the pleasant experiences in the Azores, before 



A Flowery Pathway 29 

we were told that there would be another day's 
halt in onr billowy progress toward the east. 

Two mornings later we were awakened by a 
great clatter beside the portholes, and, looking 
out, we saw boys shouting and blowing trumpets 
made of ox horns. "We needed no further re- 
minder of the fact that we had silently crept up 
into what corresponds to a harbour hereabouts, 
and that we were anchored beneath the towering 
panorama of Funchal, which is only one of the 
group, but is, nevertheless, what is i^opularly 
known as the Madeira islands. 

The boys were there in boats, waiting to dive 
for coins, and they were wildly calling their 
challenges to one another and to the passengers 
who one by one crept upon deck to have a first 
peep at the landscaj)e. But these boys seemed 
to be the aristocracy of their kind at island 
ports. A few pennies were thrown overboard 
and the hoys sneered. These coins would have 
made glad the hearts of the divers that come out 
to meet ships at many ports, but here, while they 
spoke httle English, they knew the meaning of 
the word ' ' shilhng ' ' and they knew ' ' ten cents, ' ' 
and when one spendthrift Am eric an ventured to 
throw a five-cent piece overboard, one yelled 
''too much" and the others laughed and yelled 
at his sarcasm. The bovs let us know when we 



30 The Spell of Egypt 

arrived and there was no more sleep even for 
those who wanted it. Portuguese are notori- 
ously a noisy people and those in the island pos- 
sessions are no exceptions. They seem to have 
so much to talk about, they become so excited, 
even as they sit chattering over a glass of wine 
or as they puff cigarettes, that one at first sus- 
pects another revolution has broken out. 

In the distance, beyond a glassy sea, lay the 
mountain at the top of which we were to have 
breakfast. It appeared to be a hard climb, but 
we had been warned of the primitive vehicles 
that would assist us, so we really had no misgiv- 
ings. The Madeiras have been well exploited, 
unlike their sisters, the Azores. We knew there 
was a sledge drawn by oxen that would take us 
part way, and we knew there was a funicular 
railway and a toboggan shde. But one who has 
never traveled to any of these islands comes to 
think that everything has been exaggerated by 
report and description. The tourist agencies 
have been busy, and things are usually on a 
small scale, and only seem to be grand and large 
on account of the vastness of the great expanse 
of ocean and the isolation of these little specks 
of land. But the Madeiras have not been over- 
estimated by enthusiastic travelers, Funchal is 
more cosmopohtan than Ponta Delgada. The 



A Flowery Pathway 31 

slopes of its great Mil are covered with beautiful 
villas and terraced gardens. There are splen- 
did hotels, crowded with English, Portuguese 
and Spanish tourists. Funchal has now become 
a popular playground for western Europe. 
The Casino operates gambhng devices that have 
about them the atmosphere of Monte Carlo, men 
peddle lottery tickets in the streets, women and 
children run about excitedly waving great gar- 
lands and bouquets of flowers, calla lilies, roses, 
maidenhair ferns and daturas, mammoth bou- 
quets as large as a washtub at home. 

When we first landed it seemed to be the feast 
of the flowers, as we passed up the main street 
and literally passed among bowers of roses. 
Children pelted us with flowers, and then tagged 
after us to collect small coins for their labour. 
But we did not want to see a miniature Lisbon 
or Paris. The cafes of the little city of Funchal 
were already setting out their iron tables in the 
sidewalks. Crowds of natives and hotel dwell- 
ers were already taking their places for the 
European breakfast, which consists of black cof- 
fee and rolls. 

We would go to the top of the mountain be- 
fore the tourist trade for the day set in and we 
would have the exhilarating experience of a slide 
down the mountain- side through flowering gar- 



32 The Spell of Egypt 

dens, while the morning dews were yet on their 
leaves. Suddenly we recalled Michael, our po- 
lite robber and guide of Ponta Delgada. Per- 
haps, after all, we had libeled him by our re- 
marks. He was a pest and a bore, but we 
wished we had him back with us. At least we 
saw things while he pointed the way and col- 
lected his exorbitant fees. At least he made the 
day satisfactory as we recalled it at dinner-time. 
But we were not long in our sorrow, for as if 
from the shade of the big date palms at our side, 
a young man who might have been Michael's 
brother arrived with his oxen and sledge that 
was gaily festooned with red cretonne. Souve- 
nir postcards had somehow given us the idea 
that this might have been the primitive vehicle 
of the islands, but an automobile near the pier 
had warned us that Funchal is becoming *'up 
to date." The fact remains, however, that the 
sled drawn by oxen is still practically the only 
conveyance for a short ''drive" around Fun- 
chal. The roads are paved with small cobble- 
stones or *' hard-heads" about three or four 
inches long. They are slippery and rather 
sharp, and the runners of the sleds are fre- 
quently greased by letting the vehicle run over 
a burlap sack through which grease oozes. The 
driver runs ahead and the oxen make a diligent 



A Flowery Pathway 33 

effort to keep his pace. So we stepped into the 
*'caros," as it is called here, and we seemed to 
be received by the driver as his friends, as we 
went oif up the hill into the country, far off from 
the trippers who were loitering around the 
Casino waiting for the doors to open and give 
them the chance to leave their money in Ma- 
deira. 

The ride up the mountain was not unlike sim- 
ilar rides up mountains in other places. The 
real thrill was to come when we made the de- 
scent. Excepting that we bought a basket of 
fine custard-apples — soft green things that taste 
like pear and honey — and, armed with these, we 
sat back and made our way up through gardens, 
little patches of ground that are under intense 
cultivation, through groves of tree ferns that 
stood twenty feet high, and past little straw- 
berry beds no larger than a rug, but glowing 
red with ripening fruit. We reached the top of 
the mountain sooner than "guests" were ex- 
pected and the bustling Portuguese seemed to 
be in much of a flurry as they prepared our 
breakfast. But there was plenty of fresh fruit, 
eggs and coffee, so soon we stood at the side of 
the chalet and looked at the two villainous look- 
ing creatures who had been selected to steer our 
basket down to the city. No Dick Deadeye of 



34 The Spell of Egypt 

comic opera ever had make-up that gave him a 
more cutthroat appearance. But when we real- 
ized again that "what is to be, is to be," we 
seated ourselves on the cushions and off we 
started in our three thousand-foot slide to the 
city. 

Everybody knows about the Madeira tobog- 
gan. You find it pictured in the old geogra- 
phies, in atlases and in other books that illus- 
trate the ''sights" of the world. But none of 
these pictures do the thing justice. We had 
fancied that it might be something like a shoot- 
the-chutes, a primitive slide, perhaps the orig- 
inal of all slips so familiar to the frequenters of 
Coney Island and Luna parks. But it is not 
that at all. The road corkscrews down a slope 
of three thousand feet of mountain scenery that 
would be difficult to match elsewhere and not 
down a precipitous slope. We come in mod- 
erate curves and inclines. "Sometimes the bas- 
ket shoots forward at a terrific pace and the 
first thing you know you are gliding along 
between garden walls over which great masses 
of flowers and foliage are peeping. Then the 
basket almost stops, as the men who are steer- 
ing it give it a quick jerk with a rope and off it 
speeds again, past open gates through which 
you get a peep at the flowers and foliage that 



A Flowery Pathway 35 

barely permit a glimpse of chimney pots and 
cottage roofs, which seemed to be weighed down 
by the burden. All the roadway is paved with 
the small stones that have become smooth as 
ice, due to the greased runners of the baskets 
passing over them. 

Finally we call to the two villains who are 
pretending to steer the basket and they pause in 
front of the famous church of Our Lady of the 
Mount. Here is one of the most famous of all 
statues of the Virgin in Atlantic islands, and we 
wanted to see it. But we had forgotten that it 
is a church fast day, and the statue is draped in 
purple silk, so that we may not gaze upon the 
features. The silk will be taken off with great 
ceremony a little later, and we regret that we 
shall not be here when the statue is brought 
down to the city in stately procession. The 
peasants were circled around it on their knees 
and their votive offerings, large candles, waxen 
limbs, arms and heads, were piled around them. 
On August 15th the statue is carried to the city 
for the great festival, and supplications are 
made. In time of famine and plague the virgin 
is appealed to. She is petitioned to save the 
crops and to protect the island from all forms of 
pestilence. 

After leaving the church we continued our 



36 The Spell of Egypt 

ride into the city only pausing on the way to 
inspect the gorgeous gardens surrounding the 
villas of the rich. We met with nothing but 
courtesy when we entered these private gardens, 
in several cases the owners seeming to take a 
particular pride in demonstrating what they had 
accomplished with plants and shrubs not native 
to the islands. But it seemed too wonderful to 
be true. The mass of colour made it all arti- 
ficial — like some wonderful painting of a flowery 
isle on a theater drop curtain. Soon, however, 
we realized that it was all true ; we had not been 
dreaming after all. We passed men and oxen 
drawing heavy loads up the mountain side. It 
is practical, this slide through a paradise of 
flowers. In this way provisions are carried up 
and people go to and from their labours in the 
city. After all it is real life. The only horse I 
saw was ridden by an Englishman, who had a 
boy trotting along beside the bridle, apparently 
to catch the animal by the head if it stumbled 
on the slippery pavement. Donkeys seemed to 
be in disgrace here also and were subjected to 
the most menial tasks. Madeira is the oxen's 
paradise, and here they walk about with wreaths 
of flowers around their necks and with flowers 
decorating their yokes, which seem to be easier 
in consequence. 



A Flowery Pathway 37 



After we arrived safely in the city, we realized 
that we would have to hunt for him who could 
compare to Michael of Ponta Delgada, if we 
were to find him at all. Either they stubbornly 
refused to do so, or these guides could not speak 
English. But at last a fellow met us and of- 
fered embroideries. ''Me, Jules, we spik An- 
glis," he said, and we immediately engaged him. 
It is written that he sold no more embroideries 
that day, for, after all, what we know of Ma- 
deira, we seemed to learn from Jules. He could 
not take us to a store where we could purchase 
a guide book, for there seems to be no such 
thing, but we made an arrangement for him to 
be our guide and we found that is the most sat- 
isfactory form of "book'' for the speedy trav- 
eler. To Jules I am indebted for the following 
details : 

The islands were discovered long before Co- 
lumbus started out on his first voyage to Amer- 
ica, but now that our bows are pointed toward 
Gibraltar and the older lands, we know that 
when we once pass that granite gateway we 
plunge into the ancient world, and such new 
things as Madeira, discovered in 1419, are quite 
likely to appear to be very modern. Madeira 
is six hundred miles from Gibraltar, out from 
the African coast, and some distance to the 



38 The Spell of Egypt 

south. It is out of the way for the steamers, 
but most of them stop here on the way to and 
from London and Cape Town, as well as to the 
Mediterranean. There is considerable passen- 
ger traffic and passengers are pleased with the 
itinerary that promises a ghmpse of Funchal. 
Perhaps it is most celebrated in the public mind 
for its wine, which has contributed to the gout 
of the world. Madeira used to be the most 
famous cure known to western Europe for tu- 
berculosis and lung troubles, but victims of the 
great white plague are now drifting to African 
deserts and the Alps in Europe, and Madeira 
has become more of a playground. It has be- 
come almost an English possession several 
times, and now a silent revolution is being car- 
ried on by the tourists and winter residents, 
which is likely to become much more effective 
than the old-fashioned revolution of guns and 
bloodshed. The English are making it their 
own in all but name, because they are occupying 
the land and are spending the money. And per- 
haps the people of Madeira would not be sorry 
if the English flag was flying here over the forts 
that guard the harbour. But once they were 
more patriotic. Jules related to us the old story 
about the queen mother of Portugal who was so 
anxious to have her daughter, Catherine of Bra- 



A Flowery Pathway 39 

ganza, married to Charles II that she offered to 
give the island of Madeira, Bombay and Tangier 
as her daughter's dowry. But the clerk who 
made out the document ''forgot" to include 
Madeira, and the island remained Portuguese. 
There is a tradition here that the clerk was in- 
spired by strongly patriotic motives. 

Eain here is very infrequent, Jules tells us — 
although it is raining late today. In an earlier 
day the saints were appealed to for rain and 
when it failed to come, the statues were taken 
into the streets and publicly flogged, much as 
the priests of Baal are said to have stamped 
upon Baal's altars when they did not get what 
they wanted. The island still declares with 
pride that Napoleon Bonaparte stopped in the 
harbour here for provisions when he was on his 
way to exile at St. Helena. He made many in- 
quiries about the country, and is said to have 
uttered a few words of praise for its natural 
beauties. I asked Jules for the "pet" super- 
stition of Madeira and he replied that it was 
difficult to tell the ''pet," because there were so 
many superstitions. He said that if you find a 
ball of hair in the stomach of an ox, bake it in 
a loaf of sour bread, hide it in a holy place, aU 
your wishes will come true in the future. Thus 
it will be observed that considerable of the 



40 The Spell of Egypt 

pagan remains in these childish minds, thought 
to be so deeply religious. Madeira, it seems, 
has produced no artists and no famous men of 
any sort. It has no history, excepting that it 
may have been here that the American slave 
trade originated. Negroes were brought over 
from the African coast to work in the cane fields, 
and the practice was continued among the early 
settlers in America. The patron saint of the 
island is St. James the Lesser. Once, when 
plague was infesting the island — and it is said 
that cholera has existed here at a later date than 
the tourist agencies tell us — and the health 
officer seemed to be powerless, the statue of the 
saint was brought into the public place, the 
health officer approached it and said : * ' Senhor, 
I have served this city as well as I could. I can 
do no more. Here, take you the wand of office 
and be you our health officer." He threw the 
wand at the feet of the saint — and the plague 
was stayed. 

In the older days, only Eoman Catholics could 
be buried in the ground of the islands and all 
Protestants were buried at sea, but this practice 
has been discontinued, and anybody, irrespec- 
tive of creed or religion, is entitled to his six feet 
of earth, if ''anything happens." Hunting ex- 
peditions on the outlying and smaller lands of 



A Flowery Pathway 41 

the group have shown a few mountain sheep and 
some rare birds and even a few seals. Seals in 
the tropics ! It seems incongruous, but one be- 
comes accustomed to the incongruous in a land 
where automobiles run by the side of ox carts 
and sleds. 

Once back on the ship we not only reviewed 
pleasant excursions of a day, but we realized 
that we were nearing the great granite gate of 
Gibraltar. We were about to witness one of the 
monuments which tourists to Egypt usually 
class with that bewildering array that awaits 
them between Cairo and Wadi-Halfa. 

Dr. Samuel Johnson said: "The grand ob- 
ject of all travel is to see the Mediterranean." 
We subscribed to his opinion, but woe to any 
man who subscribes to the opinion of another in 
such an argumentative subject as travel. In a 
sky that we had usually expected to find cloud- 
less, a sea that is popularly supposed to be the 
colour of sapphire, we suddenly saw nothing but 
murky gray as dismal as a foggy morning at 
Sandy Hook. The beautiful Mediterranean 
seemed to resent our intrusion, and a big black 
cloud floated over us from Morocco that sud- 
denly veiled everything from view. 

Perhaps we were fortunate in having arisen 
early. A glimpse of Gibraltar was our reward. 



42 The Spell of Egypt 

The great rock stood out defiantly for a few 
brief minutes in the morning sunlight and then 
all turned gray. The rain began to fall and it 
was not a downpour that might have led one to 
believe that it would pass in an hour or so. On 
the contrary, it was one of those miserable rains 
that drip all day long — and perhaps longer. 

*' A very unusual thing at Gib, a most unusual 
thing," said an English port official who came 
aboard. But everybody grumbled, and it 
seemed that some of the passengers were blam- 
ing the captain. The Englishman continued to 
apologize. He regretted so much that every 
mother 's son and daughter from America could 
not spend a delightful day at beautiful Gibral- 
tar. Most of the passengers, however, seemed 
to decide that they would rather stay aboard 
the ship where it was dry and warm. Perhaps 
it was chiefly the first-trippers who ventured 
ashore. But we had no intention of being de- 
nied the privilege of setting foot on Gibraltar. 
No such thing as a misty rain should rob us of 
an anticipated joy. So we hustled into our 
raincoats, and went out over the ship's side, 
down the ladders into the little craft that was 
bobbing around in the waves. Verily, we were 
looking for an experience, and we had one. If 
this is the beginning of the "grand object of 



A Flowery Pathway 43 

travel," as Dr. Johnson had it, if we could be- 
lieve that the old grouch who sat over his beef- 
steak pie and ale and growled about everything 
under the sun, really knew what he was talking 
about when he defined travel, we would start for 
our respective homes by the first ship and travel 
no more. Long before we reached the shore, 
there were bellowing Spaniards who wanted to 
sell us the inevitable souvenirs. They were 
angry because so few people were coming ashore 
from the ship and they had big cargoes of lace 
and silk stuff which they vowed they would sell 
lis. 

Many tourists have written beautiful impres- 
sions of Gibraltar. My impression was that it 
is anything but beautiful. The paving of the 
streets was covered with a layer of blue clay 
mud two inches deep. A few Spaniards peeped 
at us as we stared up at their balconies, but on 
this rainy day the city seemed to be peopled by 
fat, greasy Moors, who were sliding around in 
the blue mud, and English soldiers who looked 
as if they had been thrown, upon a rock in the 
middle of the sea and were doing penance for 
some terrible crime. English soldiers, as a 
rule, are fine-looking and well-behaved men. 
They have a dash and swagger as they strut 
about in sunshine lands and at home, but it 



44 The Spell of Egypt 

seemed far different here. A Moor went past 
driving a jQiock of goats from door to door, where 
he milked them as the milk was sold to his cus- 
tomers. We were told that he often drove a 
goat to the third story of the houses for the 
same purpose, and even the goats were slipping 
and shding in the mud. But this driver of goats 
looked no more dejected than the two Enghsh 
officers we saw going to church. They were 
making slow headway as they slopped along 
through the clay — and their gold braid was no 
help to them in this predicament. And, despite 
the black cloud that hung around the face of the 
mountain, we continued to climb. When we 
reached a point as high as we were permitted to 
go, we looked back. We wished that the Eng- 
lish, noted for colonial improvements, had out- 
fitted Gibraltar with a slide hke that we had 
recently enjoyed at Madeira. But there is no 
slide at Gibraltar. Our horse stumbled and we 
held tightly to the handle of the sea. The driver 
related to us the history of the rock, while we 
were catching our breath for the next sHp. He 
pointed to statues of brave men but we saw 
them not. Everything seemed to be rock and 
wet blue clay. 

As we reached the city, the rain ceased its 
downpour and settled in for what seemed to be 



A Flowery Pathway 45 

a lengthy drizzle. We went to churcli, and the 
churches seemed to be deserted. We visited 
the Moorish market where merchants were of- 
fering meats and those vegetables which appeal 
to a Moorish stomach. 

Finally, long after we had experienced enough 
of the joys of the gateway to the Mediterranean, 
we decided to go back to our ship, which we had 
reason to believe lay off there somewhere in the 
bay. As we were steaming back the boatman 
assured us that the dark line in the distance was 
Tarifa Island, where the Berber pirates used to 
exact tribute from passing vessels — ^thus has 
come down to us our word "tariff." 

"Over there is Algeciras," added the boat- 
man, with a swing of his arm. 

But Tarifa and pirates appealed to us more. 
Our feelings were such and our experiences at 
Gibraltar had been such that we would not have 
been much surprised if out of the fog had come 
a troop of pirates with bowie knives in their 
teeth, demanding what remained in our purses. 
But even pirates are supposed to wear bright 
colours — and they would have been a relief from 
the dull gray and black of our day. 

As we reached the ship and climbed aboard 
we came near enough to some of the officers to 
realize that we were on the right ship. Other- 



46 The Spell of Egypt 

wise we could not have told for certain, so dense 
was the fog; and we were not sorry when we 
heard the big chains of the anchors being drawn 
in and we knew that onr bows were headed for 
the city of Alexander the Great, where the wise 
ones tell ns **rain is almost unknown.'* 




CHAPTEE n 

BEYOND THE GATE 

!>HE Mediterranean is one of the most 
beautiful bodies of water in tbe world, but 
it may be also one of tbe most terrible. 
One who crosses it where it is narrow from 
Marseilles to Algiers, for example, expects a 
troublesome voyage. The boats are small, 
sometimes they are not arranged with modern 
conveniences which one usually finds on passen- 
ger boats nowadays and has a right to expect, 
and there is usually so much annoyance that 
tourists are glad when the voyage is over. But 
the distance is short. Two days of choppy seas 
— and land is sighted. It is a far diif erent mat- 
ter when the voyage is from Gibraltar to Alex- 
andria. Everything begins well and every one 
is smiling. The ships glide through the gate 
as if they were sliding along blue glass, and 
passengers naturally look forward to that fabled 
cruise on summer seas. But the azure blue of 
sky and water are a delusion and a snare that 

lure human beings on today as human beings 

47 



48 The Spell of Egypt 

were lured on in the past. We did not hear any 
sirens on the Sorrento cliffs singing songs of 
love — as the older sailors are reputed to have 
done. But we pointed out bows eastward and 
sailed along into we knew not what. No sooner 
had we passed into the open sea than the waves 
began to pile over the bow of the big ship. She 
seemed to plow her way into the big billows that 
soon came sweeping along the decks. We made 
a rush to cover and waited. But we waited in 
vain. We plowed for days in similar seas that 
would have done credit to the Atlantic on a ram- 
page. 

Most of the passengers found their cabins and 
remained there. Some of them did not venture 
to the deck again until land was sighted on the 
Egyptian shore. The wind howled furiously 
and it was a cold wind, despite the fact that it 
is the time of year when one has a right to 
expect a hot wind to be blowing from Africa, 
and the waters to be fairly calm. Most of the 
time only three of us ventured into the dining 
salon and the stewards were kept busy running 
from cabin to cabin. We dressed as we dress 
in winter at home. We bundled ulsters and 
rugs around us as we ventured on deck, because 
it was raw and bleak. 

** Quite unseasonable weather,*' remarked the 



Beyond the Gate 49 

usually silent captain, who gathered the three 
eaters among his passengers around him at 
table for meals. And at no time during the voy- 
age could he offer any prediction for better 
weather — and remain a good weather prophet. 
We might have been off Newfoundland from 
all we could tell from either sea or sky. When 
we awakened the second morning, we found the 
sea was rolling just as high as the night before. 
The waves were dashing over the ship and 
flooding the decks. Beautiful Mediterranean! 
You can be summery and calm and blue, but you 
can also be an ugly gray monster! 

Every one at home had cautioned us that we 
were venturing here at the wrong season. It 
was too late in the spring they declared; we 
would be too warm ! But here is another proof 
that people must go by the calendar and social 
rule. Almost every one was wearing an over- 
coat. They said it was ''unusual," but al- 
though we plow along toward the south it seems 
to become colder every morning. Still we wrap 
ourselves in rugs when we venture to the deck, 
and ulsters that we had worn in America in 
January — and then when the deck steward adds 
a blanket or two, we feel comfortable. 

But still greater surprise awaits us as we 
proceed to the southeast. We are approaching 



50 The Spell of Egypt 

the country that is arid desert but for the ''gift" 
of a river. Surely the clouds that hang over 
us cannot mean rain for the desert. Assuredly, 
we will soon be where it will be warm enough ! 

For a time it seemed to be a rather risky task 
to steer our ship through the comparatively nar- 
row channel of the harbour made for his own 
glory by Alexander the Great, from what had 
doubtless been a small fishing village, but after 
we were safely beyond the breakwater and near- 
ing the pier, we could see a mob of shivering 
natives gaily bedecked in their turbans and 
flowing robes. At last here was the Orient. It 
could not remain cold much longer. But we 
could see plainly that all who had overcoats had 
put them on. The rabble from the city and the 
riff-raff that had floated in from the deserts be- 
yond to watch the incoming steamer were 
draped in rags. They pulled what seemed to be 
several thicknesses of burlap of the coarser 
variety about them — in reality these were their 
blankets — and still they seemed to be cold. 

"It has not been so cold in Alexandria for ten 
years," said a custom official's interpreter, who 
looked half-frozen as he examined our trunks. 
But the coolness of the weather did not prevent 
a close inspection. Never again will we com- 
plain about the sometimes rude inspectors in the 



Beyond the Gate 51 

New York Custom House. These Egyptian 
gentlemen seem to be tlie most suspicious 
creatures in the world. Although we had no un- 
necessary baggage, we were two hours passing 
from the ship to the free air of heaven. And 
certainly very little seemed to go ''free" under 
the reign of His Majesty, the Khedive. All 
seemed to be going well until they discovered 
that I had a typewriter machine, and then the 
trouble started. The man who saw it first 
threw up his hands and shouted words that 
were evidently Arabic for "I have found some- 
thing." A fat old man, whom he addressed as 
"effendi" came out of his private office at the 
war cry and shouted to me to follow him. I did 
so blindly and I knew not what was to happen to 
me, but he sat down to a desk, gave me a chair, 
and began to jabber and write. He sounded a 
brass gong and a yellow boy entered. He, it 
seems, was the interpreter. "Effendi, he want 
to know what it is the number of the typewriter 
machine outside." 

"Don't know," I replied. Effendi shouted 
something, and, shortly afterwards, another yel- 
low boy entered with a slip of paper. He had 
found the number of my typewriter, and effendi 
talked and wrote another ten minutes. 

"Effendi he say give him an English sover- 



52 The Spell of Egypt 

eign," said the weasel-eyed chap after his chief 
had spoken. 

Perhaps I should have given effendi what he 
wanted, but I calmly asked why, and effendi did 
not like my question. Evidently, it hurt his 
dignity — a little thing like five dollars is not so 
much. 

*^He give him back to you when you leave 
Egypt again, ' ' said the boy as I hesitated. 

''And supposing I never see the gentleman 
again — supposing I do not leave Egypt by way 
of Alexandria?'' This question communicated 
to the gentleman at the desk brought the reply 
that it was a deposit merely, that I would be 
given a receipt for my money and that at the 
presentation of the receipt at the Egyptian 
border anywhere my precious gold coin would 
be returned to me. During my visit, the land 
of the Pharaohs would help me to hang on to 
my money. We had wasted an hour when the 
receipt was finally placed in my hand and I 
thought that I was again a free man — but I did 
not think rightly. The thoughtful officer dis- 
covered a partly used box of tobacco in my 
trunk and that again threw him into confusion 
and convulsions. The operation that followed 
the discovery of the typewriter was repeated in 
slightly varying fashion, careful survey was 



Beyond the Gate 53 

then taken of everything I possessed and I be- 
gan to think I was a dangerous person. But 
after I had ''deposited" for everything imagi- 
nable, I was passed along to another room. 
Freedom seemed to be in sight — ^but not too 
quickly. As we were finally told that we might 
emerge from the building, an officer came up 
and felt of us from neck to feet. It was a 
rather unusual operation it seemed, so I in- 
quired ''why I" 

"For firearms," replied an English police- 
man who stood near, so after my pockets had 
been searched and Egypt seemed satisfied that 
I was not a ' ' gun toter ' ' I was permitted to go 
to a carriage, start for the station and begin my 
<< Egyptian Days" in peace. 

When the ship pulled up to the quay at Alex- 
andria, we peered into the weird assembly to 
try to discover our dragoman. We had been 
promised "the best man in Egypt" who serves 
in that capacity, a native who has been em- 
ployed as dragoman for twenty-seven years, 
one who has "characters" from so many celeb- 
rities that it would be a tiresome job to go over 
the list. Now there are couriers and couriers. 
Sometimes one unsuspectingly gives himself 
over to the worst cutthroat in the country be- 
cause "the gentleman has been indorsed," as 



54 The Spell of Egypt 

we would say, by press and pulpit. But we had 
been assured that there was at least one honest 
dragoman in Egypt. The best tourist agency 
had said so — so each of us was eager to have a 
peep at him. Each wanted to draw his own first 
impression when viewing our companion-to-be 
at a distance. 

On the quay, in the rabble and crowd of 
porters, we spied a dignified individual who be- 
came the ''choice" of all. He wore the inevi- 
table tarboosh or fez, around which a long silk 
scarf was wound into a turban that was poised 
cockily on one side of his head. His long smock 
was white as snow, and over his shoulders was 
draped a coat of peacock blue and gold cloth. 
He looked as if he might at least be the Shah of 
Persia, dressed for a gala event. He was a big 
fellow anyway, and perhaps his size was some- 
what augmented by his glittering wardrobe — 
but for several other reasons he was easily dis- 
tinguishable from other dragomen. 

From promises that had been made to us by 
letter and cable, we felt sure that this was Josef 
Fadl, who has conducted private parties up the 
Nile for nearly thirty years. He looked it. 
We felt that he was the man who had served 
Pierpont Morgan, when the latter conducted the 
excavations at the dwarf pyramid of Maydoom, 



Beyond the Gate 55 

which the Arabs call El Kedab. This was 
Josef. We felt that we knew him already, so 
as we were about to come down the gangway to 
the dock we were not at all surprised when he 
approached us and introduced himself. 

And quickly we felt and knew that we were in 
good hands. Josef held up his hand and the 
ragged porters cowered. He said a word to 
cabmen and they saluted him. Later, we came 
to realize that Josef seems to be known to all 
of Egypt. His "characters" had not misrepre- 
sented him as the best man of his profession in 
the land of the Khedive. And it happened that 
Josef was not unwelcome at the moment. We 
were emerging from the customs where a type- 
writer, various cameras, and such things, 
seemed to have made of us objects of suspicion. 
Figuratively, we gladly threw ourselves into the 
arms of Josef and told him we were his to do 
with as he saw fit until we left African soil. 
With a dignified bow, Josef accepted the com- 
mission, and we were soon upon our way. 

"Your dahabiyeh is ready and waiting for 
you at the river bank. I suggest that you start 
up the Nile immediately and leave Cairo alone 
until you come back," he said. 

Now, any suggestion from a gentleman of 
such apparent importance as Josef struck us at 



56 The Spell of Egypt 

once in the nature of a command and we cheer- 
fully complied — ^that is, if we were not cheerful 
about it Josef never knew. All with whom he 
had dealings, touched their foreheads in a most 
deferential manner to him. Who were we, then, 
at the very outset of our journey, to intimate by 
word or gesture that he did not know what was 
best for us ? But it is true that Cairo is a Mecca 
for infidels as well as for believers in the True 
Prophet. "We had come a long way over stormy 
seas to enjoy ourselves in the city of minarets, 
bazars and towers. Perhaps, away down deep 
in our hearts, we all wanted a few days and 
nights in the capital city before we went else- 
where. The crowd that pressed itself around 
us at Alexandria had only whetted our curios- 
ity. Here was the meeting place of East and 
West, as unusual, strange, and seemingly im- 
possible as anything that we had expected to see 
in this world. What then, would be the great 
city of Cairo, the city of the Citadel and 
mosques, the city just beyond which lay the 
Sphynx and the great pyramids! Perhaps we 
were just a little disappointed; but Josef had 
spoken. With Oriental politeness he had put 
his words in the form of a suggestion, but we 
were later to learn that Josef's suggestions were 
usually the law; and, as we came to know him 



Beyond the Gate 57 

better, we were only too glad to give ourselves 
to Mm entirely. His business was to under- 
stand people better than they understood them- 
selves. And, verily, Josef understands his 
business. 

But there was one suggestion that we ven- 
tured to make which seemed to lie outside the 
progTam as arranged. In Egypt, as elsewhere, 
it is a good plan for a traveler to assume that 
he will never pass the same way again. We 
did not want to make one mistake usually made 
by the tourist and miss what might be our only 
opportunity to see Alexandria. The city has 
been called one of sites instead of sights, but 
this is not entirely true when it is viewed by the 
enthusiastic traveler. He must be one wholly 
without emotion who can enter the harbour of 
Alexandria without feeling a thrill. It was on 
these waters that Cleopatra and Anthony sailed 
in barges and aroused the enthusiasm of the 
world's poets and artists for centuries to come. 
The waterfront of this city has been the scene 
for some of the most remarkable spectacles 
ever witnessed. Hither came Juhus Cssar, 
Hadrian, Constantine and Zenobia, queen of 
Pahnyra. Here was the first Hghthouse for the 
benefit of shipping. And, finally, here occurred 
the first great controversies that split the 



58 The Spell of Egypt 

Church of Jesus Christ into its various sects and 
creeds. Next to Antioch it was the most im- 
portant city of the early Christians. St. Mark 
came here to preach and teach, and the Copts 
still show you where he is buried, although it is 
a well-known fact that his body was taken to 
Venice in the ninth century. 

But Alexandria is very modern and tourists 
shp by it lightly. One should not forget, how- 
ever, that the city has a noble record in history. 
Alexandria was once the center of Greek learn- 
ing, and there is still a large and a noticeable 
population, that had its origin across the Med- 
iterranean. But even this city of Alexander the 
Great is a mushroom growth as compared to 
other Egyptian cities further up the river, 
Memphis and Thebes. It is like comparing 
Oklahoma City to Rome; but a city that was a 
great metropolis in the time of Christ cannot 
be considered modern in our usual acceptance of 
the word. So we decided to wait here until we 
had seen what there was to see. Alexandria 
may be ''tainted" by its contact with Europe, 
but it has the colour of the Orient. It is a per- 
fect place for the Westerner to permit the Egyp- 
tian sun to commence to stain his features 
brown, a good place to become acquainted with 
the atmosphere that one is to inhale during sue- 



Beyond the Gate 59 



ceeding weeks. So in this minor detail, Josef 
was obliged to alter Ms plans slightly. As we 
began to go about the city to view the ''sites," 
we looked in vain for the four thousand palaces, 
four thousand baths and four hundred theaters 
about which the conquering General Amru 
boasted in his letter to his master, the Caliph 
Omar. Where is the magnificent temple of 
Serapis towering over the city with its platform 
of one hundred steps? Where is the library 
that once held the learning of the known world? 
Where is Hypatia 1 Gone. They have all gone, 
and there is no really authentic record of the 
exact spots of land identified with them. 

There are splendid palaces along the canals, 
but they are modern palaces. We encounter a 
crowd returning from the horse races. It is a 
rainbow crowd of silken robes and red tar- 
booshes. The dandies carry canes and have a 
very modern swagger. A few fine ladies drive 
by in their carriages drawn by Arab horses. 
They are dressed in black and have white veils 
drawn over their faces after the fashion of Con- 
stantinople, to distinguish them from the poorer 
Egyptians who are veiled in black, with little 
brass spools set over the bridge of the nose. 
Eunuchs sit on the boxes of the carriages, and, 
once or twice, we saw carriages before which 



60 The Spell of Egypt 

servants called "sais" ran to clear the road. 
But we also saw veiled ladies in the limousines 
made in France. Alexandria has become thor- 
oughly imbued with modernity. Alexander 
built his city to gain a Mediterranean port, and 
after it had lost its splendour, Mahomet Ali and 
the English engineers made it into a commercial 
city to dominate the eastern end of the sea. 

The hotel-keeper complains bitterly when we 
remind him that we are thoroughly enjoying 
ourselves, despite the fact that this is not the 
Egypt of temples and tombs, nor yet, the city 
of cosmopolitan jollity which we know lies a lit- 
tle further inland. 

''Alexandria is cursed by close proximity to 
Cairo,'' he declared. ''The tourists of the 
world who come here seem to be racing against 
time to reach Shepheard's terrace. They come 
to see Egypt, don't they? Why, then, don't 
they begin by seeing the principal seaport?" 

But the question seemed to be answered by 
that same hotel's porter. One day we told him 
that we wanted to spend the day among what 
remained of ancient Alexandria and he laughed 
as he told us that a couple of hours would be 
sufficient. After all, old Egypt hereabouts is 
dead and forgotten. One's diversion must be 
wandering along with the crowds of the great 





POMPEY's pillar, ALEXANOmA. 



Beyond the Gate 61 

sea-wall, penetrating into curious bazars, sit- 
ting for the first time with little groups of na- 
tives as they puff narghiles and cigarettes, and 
drink innumerable cups of black coffee, and ob- 
serving the strange customs and costumes of a 
population that has gathered from the ends of 
Christendom. 

Certainly one has never before beheld so much 
poverty and nakedness. Here are all the pic- 
tures of Oriental life that one has beheld from 
childhood. And the apparent happiness of it! 
Or at least the majority of the population seem 
to be coolly indifferent to the kaleidoscope of 
wretchedness always before them if they ven- 
ture a few steps beyond the principal streets 
and boulevards, which teem with the life of 
many nations. 

At least we must see Pompey's Pillar, for we 
know there is one ''sight" that remains as it 
was in the day of ancient gTandeur. It is a 
pleasant drive to the gateway that guards the 
*' Pillar," which was erected by Diocletian in his 
own honour, a custom much in vogue among 
ancient Eomans and Egyptians. It is a mag- 
nificent monohth nearly a hundred feet high, but 
it stands in a field of sand and rock, a rather 
forlorn remnant of what once surrounded it. 
Nearby are several tombs hewn out of the solid 



62 The Spell of Egypt 

rock. But they are empty and uninteresting. 
Alexandria of today thinks more of its palm- 
bordered boulevards and fine European shops 
than of a rock tomb or monolith. It seems to be 
contrary to the spirit of the times. Therefore, 
the tourists hustle along. Alexandria now 
boasts some palatial hotels, but their owners 
and managers complain. The casual tripper 
does not patronize them. Formerly, the excuse 
was that hotels in Alexandria did not offer ade- 
quate accommodations for the class of travelers 
who go to Egypt, for notoriously this is a spend- 
thrift company that seems to delight in paying 
the excessive rates charged in other cities. But 
this was merely an excuse. Hotels were built 
that maintain a service as elegant as one would 
commonly find in an European city, and al- 
though there is a more liberal patronage each 
season, encouraging the owners in the belief that 
some day it will all be changed, the incoming 
tourist inquires eagerly for the next train to 
Cairo and usually drives directly from the quay 
to the railway station. 

So, one day, we delighted the waiting Josef 
by telling him that we had sufficiently ' ^ steeped ' * 
ourselves in the atmosphere of Egypt to dare to 
begin our dahabiyeh journey, and Josef said we 
would take the evening train that would bring 



Beyond the Gate 63 



us to Cairo about nine o'clock. He strongly 
argued that we ''wait until after the river trip" 
before stopping at Cairo and we suspected, as 
we saw him telegraphing arrangements, that he 
was purposely bringing us into this vision of 
the Arabian nights at an hour when the tempta- 
tion to remain would be least. At any rate, we 
trusted to his wisdom in the matter. Couriers, 
like stage directors, usually arrange a briUiant 
climax for their patrons. It is better to allow 
them a certain latitude. So we found ourselves 
seated in a reserved compartment, fully a half 
hour before the time scheduled for the train to 
leave. One must wait on the East. Nothing 
can be accomplished in a hurry, not even the 
checking and weighing of luggage. A boy 
passed along by the waiting train and, spying 
Americans, he offered from his little cart what 
he thought Americans would be most likely to 
want. He had pint bottles of whisky, also a 
few books, including ''Three Weeks," "The 
Queen of Bedlam," "The Second Kiss" and 
' ' The Diary of a Lost One. ' ' Finally, however, 
a man tooted a horn, the engine screeched its 
siren-like whistle and we started on our first 
train-ride in Africa, as comfortable as if we had 
been on any train in America. 

The railway between Alexandria and Cairo is 



64 The Spell of Egypt 

the first link in that wonderful chain that will 
some day extend to the Cape of Good Hope. 
Incidentally, work is progressing on this line 
as we are not likely to appreciate in America. 
There are dismal swamp lands in central Africa 
that are retarding the work, but it is now pos- 
sible to go over four days north from Cape 
Town and the line taken by us runs as far south 
as Khartum in the Sudan. One hopes for the 
benefit of future tourists in the black conti- 
nent — so named on account of the colour of the 
soil — ^that the rest of the line may be like that 
upon which we start out. Blindfolded and led 
into one of the compartments of the car here it 
would be easy to imagine one's self on the best 
road in England or America. 

At the beginning of the journey in Egypt, 
however, we realized the benefit of a small tip. 
A few coins handed out in Africa does a good 
deal to make the trip easy. You do not only give 
''boots" or the porter a tip at the end of the 
journey, but encourage him with about half of 
his fee at the beginning, and it has a spectacular 
effect when viewed by the newcomer. Josef 
had ''sugared" the porter on our car, as the 
baggageman stacked our belongings beside us 
in the space that might have been taken by 
eight passengers. And as we were stopping at 



Beyond the G-ate 65 

the first few stations we looked into the fezzed 
and turbaned crowd that peered at us and 
wondered who would crowd us out of space that 
did not belong to us. It is true that the road is 
dusty and that the white sand filters in upon 
baggage and clothes. But the porter did not 
purpose to allow dust upon us. Perhaps Josef 
had given him a shilling, for I saw him salute ; 
but the shilling did not pay for the attention we 
were receiving. The porter kept entering our 
compartment and dusting our shoes and cloth- 
ing and pulling a soft piece of cotton over our 
luggage. So I made the experiment of dispens- 
ing another quarter of a dollar in the cause of 
cleanliness. It worked like magic, and I decided 
that I knew something of Egyptian ways. He 
locked us into our compartment before we 
reached each crowded station. We were his 
good friends and he had become our abject slave. 
Woe to the white-robed Egyptian or veiled lady 
who attempted to sit with us. We were a party 
to be catered to — as we learned later, a shilling 
often pays for much catering in Egypt. 

When we reached the environs of Alexandria 
the sun was approaching the western horizon 
and threw a splotch of gold over the landscape. 
The suburbs seemed to be even more modern 
than the city itself, for there were four or fiv^- 



66 The Spell of Egypt 

storied apartment houses, only slightly bearing 
a hint of Oriental architecture; and about the 
only difference between these and the streets of 
Italy were the strangely costumed figures with 
dark faces that peered into the compartment 
from station platforms or looked down on the 
train from overhanging balconies. Soon Josef 
came and announced that dinner was served. 
Here we were, away off in the Nile Delta, on a 
train, and we felt considerable curiosity con- 
cerning our first dinner in Egypt. But another 
surprise! "We might have been dining on a; 
Pullman in America — only perhaps the dinner 
was better, and it was much better served by the 
white-gowned and white-turbaned gentlemen of 
Nubia than by their brethren at home. 

In the Delta we could see solitary figures 
trudging along, driving home the water buffalo, 
camels and donkeys from their day's work. 
Most of the way along the railroad there is a 
high bank to the north, and on the top of this 
bank there is a footpath. There, silhouetted in 
black against the golden sky, passed the Egypt 
that we knew from pictures and reading. It was 
the Egypt that had not changed since Christ was 
born. The men we saw were the fellaheen, 
those poor and bedraggled sons of the soil who 
have fallen from a once lofty estate. As the 



Beyond the Gate 67 

golden sky of sunset faded to purple, and the 
blue Egyptian night became a fixed thing that 
would last until the dawn, we could see little 
groups of these men huddled around a brush fire 
before their huts. The crackling flames showed 
their whitish head-dress and even their shiny 
copper-coloured faces, as we had but a passing 
glance from the car window. We stopped at a 
rather important station, and, as the crowd gath- 
ered around the train, inspecting its occupants, 
all seemed to be as anxious to see us as we were 
to see them. We were amused to recall that 
natural curiosity is about the same everywhere. 
But perhaps this thought would not have come 
but for the fact that here we saw a most ill- 
behaved Egyptian infant. A Moslem mother, 
closely veiled, was looking at us with wondering 
eyes. She had her year-old youngster astride 
her shoulder and she became so absorbed in the 
** sights" she was witnessing that she paid no 
attention to the baby, which cared nothing for 
us, and amused itself by dangling at its mother 's 
long earrings and picking at her head-dress 
and eyes. If the child had wilfully undertaken 
to commit a breach of etiquette it could not have 
done so in more convincing fashion, for when its 
mother approached close to the car window to 
have a good look the child caught hold of her 



68 The Spell of Egypt 

face veil and pulled it off. We saw the face of a 
Moslem woman who let her curiosity get the bet- 
ter of her. She quickly retired to the darkness 
after making a desperate but unsuccessful effort 
to pull the covering for her face back into place. 
She was, no doubt, deeply chagrined, and prob- 
ably baby received a spanking, but if the train 
had not started we would have given the baby 
a penny for its prank. 

Off to the north we could see flaming elec- 
tric bulbs that rose into the air in curves. We 
might have been approaching a small Coney 
Island. We sent for Josef and asked him about 
them. 

''That Heliopolis," he replied, "that where 
people go for holiday pleasure — what you call it 
— Luna Park ? It is ver-r beautiful. ' ' 

Hehopolis ! A name sacred in Egyptian his- 
tory. It was Asenath, daughter of the high 
priest of Heliopolis, who was given to Joseph as 
his wife, after he had interpreted the Pharaoh's 
dream. The city that was famous in antiquity 
for its learning. Herodotus conversed with 
priests here and boasted of the fact, and Plato is 
said to have spent thirteen years with them to 
learn some of their doctrines. The temple at 
Heliopolis was the largest and most richly en- 
dowed in all Egypt, next to the temple of Amnon 



Beyond the Gate 69 



at Thebes. When Strabo visited Egypt, about 
60 B.C., he visited many famous places in the 
city, although much of it had been destroyed by 
Cambyses. But Heliopolis has always been a 
name to conjure with in Egypt. And now, Heli- 
opolis, exploited by a Belgian company, has fes- 
toons of electric lights, whirligigs and roller 
coasters! It is ''ver-r beautiful" place, if we 
take Josef's word for it, a Luna Park where 
people go for holiday pleasure ! 

Much ink has been spilled concerning the 
floods of water that sweep around Egyptian 
temples. There have been many tears shed, 
figuratively, because the English have done 
much to improve the condition of the poverty- 
stricken inhabitants of Egypt by assisting them 
to get water to their parched lands, but in these 
instances the ''taint of civihzation, " concerning 
which men like Pierre Loti have wept, has not 
come about without unquestioned benefits to the 
people. But most of the writers have neglected 
to speak of this crude desecration at Heliopolis. 
It is true that there is a new, as well as the 
ancient city, but the name has been preserved 
for both, and one cannot pass lightly over the 
fact that Heliopolis has become a Luna Park! 
Now, one would not be surprised to find a tobog- 
gan slide down the back of the Sphynx or ele- 



70 The Spell of Egypt 

vators in the pyramids at Gizeli. But it is 
dangerous to become too sentimental or pessi- 
mistic. One wishes not to fall into the trap that 
lies in wait for all visitors from the West who 
come here. Despite the "desecrations" to her 
ancient landmarks, Egypt is not passing, and 
Egypt will not pass, as long as the Sphynx 
keeps watch on the banks of the Nile. 

Soon we were in a carriage being driven along 
noisy streets — soon into the avenues of date- 
palms, where stately palaces rise above the 
banks of the Nile, and soon the carriage halted 
at the top of the hill. Below us, floating on the 
silvery water, lay our home for many days to 
come, the dahabiyeh, "Seti." The Sudanese 
and Nubian boys of the crew were crouching 
on the bank, singing their desert songs ; but the 
voice of Josef brought them scrambling up the 
hill to meet us. It was the most picturesque 
crew that ever sailed from port — unspoiled 
children of the desert most of them, who had 
some way drifted down the Nile to escape 
starvation, and now found themselves in po- 
sitions of affluence by the grace of the traveling 
public from America and Europe. 



CHAPTER ni 

DAHAilYEH DAYS 

ME *'Seti" was brightly lighted to wel- 
^^^ come us, and, while the boys were deposit- 
ing our luggage, we made a quick inspec- 
tion of the spacious deck, upon which we 
expected to lounge during many days ahead, 
and its appearance was such that we quickly fell 
into the habit of lounging, just as if we had been 
Nile travelers all our lives. Big wicker couches 
with innumerable cushions, Turkish rugs and 
fly switchers, books and flowers were scattered 
about promiscuously. A quick glance at the 
books proved that they all related to Egypt and 
the Nile journey; and they had been fairly well 
selected from the mass of books on the same 
subject. Turbaned black boys brought us cool 
drinks, and we sat down quite prepared for 
whatever might happen. Here, indeed, was 
dolce far niente. Immediately we had settled 
ourselves, a tall ebony-hued gentleman with a 
long black mustache made his appearance at the 
bow of the main deck. He was dressed in a 

71 



72 The Spell of Egypt 

black robe that bung to bis beels — quite a sin- 
ister looking figure but for the red Turkish slip- 
pers in which his bare feet were enclosed and 
which protruded beyond his ' ' skirt. ' ' His head 
was swathed in a big turban that has been an 
object of curiosity to me in the days that have 
passed since that time. It is always spotlessly 
white and he must wind it around at least a 
dozen times, permitting the long fringed ends to 
dangle over his ears, and giving him the appear- 
ance of having shoved his black face into a huge 
snowball. 

This was our captain, called ''reis" on the 
Nile, and in Arabic pronounced almost as we 
pronounce ''rice." This was the man who was 
to guide our little boat up the river, pointing his 
long, bony, black finger, marking out the treach- 
erous course, which at this season of year is 
likely to mean ahnost as much time on sandbars 
as in the stream, unless, as Josef tells us, the 
reis knows his river. But it seems to me after 
many days of sailing along, that there is as- 
suredly such a thing as luck. The Nile is about 
the colour of coffee — as we learn when we step 
into it in white porcelain bathtubs — and its 
sandbars are the same colour. The high prow 
of a dahabiyeh glides onto one of these bars so 
gently that you scarcely know it until you are 



Dahabiyeh Days 73 

stranded high and dry and the crew is called out 
in full force to pole the craft back into the water 
for another start. While it would not be sailing 
on the Nile if one did not go frequently aground, 
and while the inevitable happened to us many 
times soon after we had started, I always felt 
a malicious joy when I felt a slackening of 
speed, because it meant that the black boys 
would be called out with their long poles to pull 
and push until we were free again — ^because 
these boys cannot work in unison unless they 
sing, and they sing sad songs, almost uncanny 
songs, if one cannot see their smiling ebony 
faces and their white shining teeth. 

Eeis Mohammed Abraham Eahdahwee raised 
his hand at our start and we could hear the 
chains of our rudder being pulled at by the boys 
at the wheel, but no command was spoken. The 
boys still sang, and we started on our journey 
as unceremoniously as we would sit down to 
read a book. There was no shouting, although 
we afterward learned that the reis could shout 
as well as the best of them. And there was no 
whistling — ^no noise of any kind but the singing. 
It seems that when anything of real consequence 
happens there, brown and black children are 
quite unmoved. Our start upstream caused not 
a sign of emotion; but the slightest discussion 



74 The Spell of Egypt 

caused them to shout wildly and wave their 
hands. They gesticulated when wondering 
whether an oncoming river boat would go to the 
right or to the left of us. They seemed to be- 
come infuriated when they were speculating 
about the depth of the water ahead. But start- 
ing a cruise could not excite them even to words. 
The reis pulled a large silver tobacco box from 
his gown, calmly rolled a cigarette and squatted 
on a high box where he could look out ahead. A 
black boy brought him a demi-tasse of Turkish 
coffee, which he slowly sipped. And we were 
off! 

As we were to do so many, many times in 
days to come, we went directly across the river 
and quietly stole along beside the brown mud 
bank. We did not know it at the time, or we 
might have been tempted to spend the night in 
Cairo, but we were not destined to go far. The 
principal thing was to have us aboard early in 
the morning. Nile boats tie up to the bank when 
the skies suddenly turn to daffodil and throw 
their strange light over the landscape. Shortly 
after four o'clock in the morning, the reis is 
squatting on his box, puffing cigarettes, the boys 
are at the wheel and the dahabiyeh is drifting 
along. 

When we arrived, two black boys were ar- 



Dahabiyeh Days 75 



ranging the flowers on the deck. There were 
roses and daisies — and the boys spent at least 
half an hour at this task, not only because they 
are naturally slow and deliberate about every- 
thing, but because they seem to be crudely senti- 
mental and natural— and they love colours and 
combinations of colours. They would place the 
flowers in big earthen vases and then stand back 
and look at their handiwork, as an architect 
might view his finished skyscraper. 

In the stillness of the night, the black finger of 
the reis pointed to a high stone wall beyond 
which a large grove of date palms lifted their 
fronds high into the air and showed by slight 
noddings that there was a breeze stirring. 
Down near the water we could not feel it, and 
for the first time in many days and nights, we 
were comfortably warm. Two or three boys 
sprang from the bow of the boat to the mud that 
separated the water from the wall. They drove 
a stake with large white mallets, and ordinarily 
there would be nothing particularly fascinating 
about the driving of a stake. But these boys 
made even this operation interesting. They 
continued to croon their weird chant to Allah. 
They asked him to make stake-driving easy, and 
their mallets were swung so that the blows 
sounded like a woodeny tom-tom — a fitting ac- 



76 The SpeU of Egypt 

companiment for the song. Often in days tliat 
have passed, I have been awakened at four 
o'clock in the morning by these songs near my 
window. Doubtless they have had their instruc- 
tions from the reis and they faintly lisp the song 
when the eastern sky is just beginning to show 
faint traces of light ; but no reis would deprive 
them of the privilege of singing altogether. 
For many generations they have sung as they 
worked, and they cannot work unless they 
sing. 

We all sleep behind white mosquito net that 
hangs from the ceiling. As I hear this gentle 
song in the morning and look through the white 
veil that separates me from them, there seems 
to be a misty unreality to it all, which is height- 
ened by the music and the slowly moving black 
figures at the river's brink. 

Eeports differ. The first morning when we 
sat on deck and were occupied with such sights 
as the distant pyramids at Grizeh, and other 
groups of pyramids that scatter themselves 
along the Nile for over forty miles on the west 
bank — because the ancients wanted to be buried 
near the setting sun — while we were enjoying 
our first glimpse of the Arabian and Libyan 
deserts that stretch far away on both sides, 
while the sun was painting it with all the hues 



Dahabiyeh Days 77 



of the rainbow, while hilltops seemed to be pur- 
ple and pink and the big pyramid of Cheops 
seemed to loom as a big chunk of loaf-sugar— 
we made our first reports of the night on a Nile 
dahabiyeh. 

One declared that he slept ''like a log'' in the 
cool breeze that arose after we retired and 
swept down the river all night. But I frankly 
confessed that I did not. I might have nodded, 
through sheer fatigue, for the day had been a 
lively one— but Josef finished sleep for me that 
first night when he told me that the dahabiyeh 
was moored within three yards of the tradi- 
tional spot where the daughter of the Pharaoh 
found Moses in the bulrushes, floating in his 
little ark and waiting to be rescued, to become 
the leader of his people. I spent the rest of the 
night watching the palms wave in what is still 
called Pharaoh's Garden and making my own 
mental picture of what happened ''just outside 
my window" thousands of years ago. It 
dawned on me that first night that we were not 
merely floating up a river. We were sailing 
back into the past six thousand years and the 
dimmest past seemed to be beckoning toward us 
in greeting. I recalled Villiers de Lisle Adam 's 
''Say, dear friend, wouldst thou go to a land 
where pass the caravans beneath the shadow of 



78 The Spell of Egypt 

the palm tree of the Oasis ; where even in mid- 
winter all is in flower as in springtime else- 
where 1 ' * 

We had reached that land, the land of the 
*'High Gate" — the land of the Pharaohs. The 
dahabiyeh has been outfitted for only three of 
us, but it seems that its outfitters have requisi- 
tioned upon the entire world in an effort to make 
us not only comfortable but luxurious. At first 
it struck us as amusing that we had a crew of 
twenty-three men, twelve of whom were per- 
sonal servants. People in these Oriental coun- 
tries do not believe in doing things by halves. 
Either you have not the necessities of life — as 
we know necessities — and you live as the poor 
of these countries live and likely as not find the 
latter a hardship, or you imagine that you know 
the luxury of an Oriental prince. People who 
live in the better houses in the cities, have 
troupes of black servants. They sit beside the 
master's gate. They run before him when he 
rides horseback or drives. They assist him 
when he enters or alights from a carriage. 
White people and the better class yellows and 
browns, seem to become very helpless in Egypt. 
It never fails to appeal to my sense of humour 
to take from the hands of one of these black 
boys from the desert an ice-cold drink. At 



Dahabiyeh Days 79 



meals we have frozen puddings, our supply of 
fruit is kept on ice until it is brought to table— 
and after we have visited the markets at the 
smaller villages along the river, it is not dis- 
pleasing to know that our supply of meat is 
packed away in ice chests, safe from the ever- 
ready flies that swarm about Egypt, and safe 
from the glaring sun that now parches and 
burns at midday. We have turkeys and apples 
from Syria, oranges and figs from Damascus, 
milk in cans from England, butter from Den- 
mark, cheese from France and Holland, dates 
from Biskra, all sorts of canned fruits from 
California; and a water supply from most of 
the famous springs of Europe. We take on 
fresh supplies of eggs and green stuff where we 
stop every day. These poor peasants of Egypt, 
the fellaheen, who dip water from the Nile and 
spill it over their crops in goatskins, to prevent 
roasting by the sun, know how to grow rare let- 
tuces, endives and other salad stuff. But we 
have not tasted Nile water and we are advised 
not to do so, although the crew drink it, their 
fathers drank it and their grandfathers. In 
fact it was once held in very high esteem and 
was much prized as a drinking water in this 
part of the world. Fashionable ladies of Con- 
stantinople had it sent to their harems, and the 



80 The Spell of Egypt 

Arabs liave a saying that if Mahomet had drunk 
of it, he would never have left Egypt. 

While we are bargaining for salad stuff — even 
little white radishes, marrow and beets — ^the 
boys from the boat run off to the fields and 
snare whole strings of quails. Every day at 
lunch we have a dozen of these little birds, al- 
ready becoming scarce at home — and we have 
no fear for the extent of the larder. When 
there are no quails, there are plenty of wild 
pigeons, and if that supply should ever fail, we 
might bargain with the keepers of fowls who 
come to us every day and beseech us to buy their 
stock, which they often offer for a pittance. 
These Egyptians are real Oriental traders. 
Over the smallest trifle I have heard them recite 
long oaths to Allah that they are losing on trans- 
actions, but they assure you that they like to 
trade with you and are willing to experience the 
loss — ^because you will give no more. They love 
to go to market, and they do so when only a few 
hundred of them are huddled together in a mud 
village, where they have lived from infancy. 
The men who wander into the towns from the 
deserts far beyond, bringing their stock on cam- 
els, wrangle and bargain with the local dealers 
as if they were conducting grave transactions 
of state. Sometimes it takes them two or three 



Dahabiyeh Days 81 

days to dispose of a stock that was brought to 
market by two camels; and then it takes them 
another two or three days to purchase from the 
*' resident merchants" what they wish to take 
home with them! There is no hurrying here. 
The hills and the mountains that lie beyond the 
Nile are so old, so full of men and women of 
thousands of years ago, there are so many mon- 
uments of antiquity scattered about, that the 
dust seems to have penetrated to the very beings 
of the present. They have but to glance in any 
direction to realize the futility of all human en- 
deavour. 

The Oriental market is about the same every- 
where. The big rug or carpet merchant of the 
cities offers his stock in much the same fashion 
as the merchant of the mud village offers his 
lettuce. He squats in front of his stock and 
smokes and waits. If he have no customers, he 
does not seem to be disturbed or worried. To- 
morrow they may come and if not to-morrow, 
then next week or next year. He seems to be 
indifferent to all that passes. Ask him the price 
of anything that he has for sale and likely as 
not he shrugs his shoulders, as if to say, ''I 
don't know and don't care." If you want what 
he has to sell, you will linger long and bargain ; 
and if you do not, you will pass along — and he 



82 The Spell of Egypt 

cares not, or at least he does not appear to care. 
Evidently, he has something very much more 
important than you on his mind and does not 
want to be interrupted. Even in the remotest 
villages of the East there is a regular market 
day, and no self-respecting citizen seems to be 
able to withstand its lure. Women — some of 
them veiled — squat around in the sun, offering 
for sale the most absurd articles which nobody 
would want. But they sit there all day with 
their eyes partly closed, munching a piece of 
sour black bread or kernels of unripe wheat. 
They are merchants on market day and that 
seems to satisfy them. 

The story is told that in a small village a 
flute player had attracted a considerable crowd 
in the street. The bell rang for the opening of 
the market and all the crowd scampered away, 
leaving the poor musician alone — all but one 
who stood beside him and watched him to the 
end. ''Thanks for not deserting me when the 
market-bell rang," said the player, as he ex- 
tended his palm for a contribution. ' ' Oh, did it 
ring ? I 'm deaf and couldn 't hear it ' ' — said the 
last one in the audience as he ran away to join 
the others. 

When we tie up to the bank and our boys go 
out to snare pigeons for the pot I have some 



Dahabiyeh Days 83 

misgivings and recall wliat is known in history 
as the Denshawai aifair, which was brought on 
in this way. Sometimes I wonder if the birds 
at our table are always the wild birds that haunt 
the banks of the Nile. The natives, from the 
earliest times, have regarded their pigeons as 
one of the precious assets the land affords, and 
they treat individual flocks with almost super- 
stitious awe, although the birds are semi-domes- 
ticated. On the tops of their one-story houses 
made of Nile mud — just as during the days of 
the Israelitish oppression in Egypt — the people 
build little domes of mud that are doubtless fash- 
ioned from the dome tombs wherein repose the 
sheiks of villages. The pigeons swarm into 
these little turrets and rapidly multiply — about 
the only thing — excepting poor families — ^which 
multiply freely in Egypt. But there are many 
wild pigeons that are snared or shot by all who 
care for them. Some years ago two officials 
either carelessly or intentionally shot pigeons 
that belonged in a village. The natives arose 
and a big fight followed. It was a great mix-up 
that became an international affair — this at 
Denshawai, and as a result, two natives were 
executed, some sent to penal servitude for life 
and others received short prison terms for their 
part in it. 



84 The Spell of Egypt 

The English are always given to "impress- 
ing" the natives of a country in which they con- 
sider themselves the masters — nominal or other- 
wise. They are always punishing some one 
who displeases them, or trying to overawe some- 
body else who does not chance to be of the rul- 
ing class. But, at least, the English are good 
colonizers. It is apparent on every hand that 
they have helped, and are helping Egypt to help 
herself. They are saving the grand old land 
from decay and starvation. 

Our first stop at a typical mud village was 
prompted by a particular desire to come as 
closely as we could to two wolves and a dozen 
or so buzzards that were gnawing and picking 
at a skeleton that lay in the mud near the bank. 
They paid no attention to us as long as we were 
on the dahabiyeh, but as we stepped into our 
"dinky" and the boys began to pole ashore, the 
wolves suddenly dashed away to the cliffs and 
the buzzards stepped out of harm's way and 
watched for our departure. Just around a 
small curve in the bank we saw women filling 
their jars with water, and we wanted a picture. 
Unable to snap the wolves, we were determined 
to "get something," so we poled along to the 
village of El Kerimat, where perhaps six hun- 
dred people live in their pile of mud, fashioned 



Dahabiyeh Days 85 

into tlie shape of houses. It is one of those 
places never visited by tourists, so we made 
preparations to land and spend a few hours 
among the fellaheen. 

El Kerimat is not a village of much impor- 
tance, so far as maps of Egypt go. You might 
not find it even on a large atlas map of the 
Nile, for it is merely one of the many centers of 
its sort, where the fellaheen come to sleep at 
night, after they have toiled in the fields, and 
which they doubtless call home. It is no larger 
and no smaller than many similar towns, but it 
seemed to be ** typical" of all of them, so we 
selected it as a fitting field for observation, 
showing the old national life of Egypt. The 
mere name, a mud village, cannot convey much 
of an impression to the reader. Some of the 
houses are quite pretentious and have second 
stories, with mud plastered along the tops in 
ornamental designs. They have doors made of 
woven wheat straw or cornstalks and one be- 
comes quite ''home-like" when seen from the 
interior, although the brown paper aspect of one 
of these villages from the distance, is rather 
disappointing. All the houses are built either 
against one another, or they join the courtyard 
of the neighbour, thus forming a pen into which' 
goats, camels and donkeys may be driven at 



Se The Spell of Egypt 

night. The floors are hard dirt, and there are 
many earthenware pots and jars scattered 
around the single room, which with the addi- 
tion of a few ''pens" into which the children 
crawl to sleep on woven rush mats, forms the 
whole interior. Most of the houses we visited 
had little stoves made of mud, and in one or 
two of these there was a crackling blaze from 
dried rushes or brush. The women pulled black 
shawls over their faces as the sheik of the vil- 
lage took us around and unceremoniously en- 
tered any of the houses that we indicated we 
would like to visit. These people are used to 
seeing the boats ghde by on the river, as they 
have glided for thousands of years, but they are 
not used to seeing a boat stop and discharge its 
passengers among them. Josef tells us that in 
his twenty-seven years of experience on the Nile 
he has never known foreign white people to 
visit El Kerimat — and from what we saw, we 
are willing to take his word for it. 

As the people saw us coming, they ran to the 
shore. The younger ones were naked, and their 
elders wore blue or brown shirts, and looked 
warlike as they came running toward us. But 
it was merely their natural curiosity, which 
could have been matched by our own. Even the 
two men who were leading camels nearby, went 



Dahabiyeh Days 87 

out of their way and hurried to what they cal- 
culated would be our landing-place, pounding 
their camels that they might hurry and not be 
too late to see the *' sights." Shepherds 
whipped their flocks of goats and came running 
toward the river brink, and even women, who 
were filling their water- jars, made a rush toward 
us, skipping jauntily along over dried clumps 
of mud, never even putting their hands to their 
heads to balance the heavy loads that they were 
carrying. Children screamed as they tagged at 
their mothers' heels, and most of them displayed 
giddy tattoo marks about the face, some of them 
wearing gaudy painted spangles in their ears — 
the surest sign of fellaheen beauty and attrac- 
tiveness. But for that matter, the mate of our 
dahabiyeh has a big blue pigeon tattooed over 
his right temple, and he seems to be proud of 
it. Several of the men were spinning — a thing 
that struck us most unusual of all, for these 
sons of the desert are not usually working, but 
these fellows had httle hand spinners and were 
busily wrapping the thread around one as the 
other dangled below and spun around between 
their thumbs and middle fingers. They jab- 
bered as loudly as the rest, and became as ani- 
mated in gestures with their elbows as were 
the others with their hands, but they kept spin- 



88 The Spell of Egypt 

ning as they afterwards followed us around the 
narrow streets of the mud village. 

The Nile had seemed a little more brown than 
usual on account of the many boats that were 
churning around on the bar a little farther up 
stream. But this village and its inhabitants 
seemed to be of the same colour, only relieved 
by a few date palms, which raised their tall 
stalks from the dooryards, or from the middle 
of houses, as the case happened to be. 

As we were about to step ashore, an individ- 
ual, who seemed to be a little more dignified 
than the rest, stepped down to the edge of the 
water and shouted something. He was dressed 
in a long white shirt, over which he held a black 
mantle, and his head, unlike the others, was in- 
cased in a bountiful turban. Josef heard him 
and answered something back, as our boys were 
continuing to whip the water with their poles, 
which were manipulated to the inevitable chant 
to Allah. The conversation became quite ani- 
mated, until Josef finally touched his forehead 
and the dignified individual on the bank did 
likewise. It showed that whatever their differ- 
ences had been, they had settled them satis- 
factorily. This was the sheik, although we did 
not know it at the time — and it was proper for 
him to make inquiries. 



Dahabiyeh Days 89 

''He say: 'those people cannot stay in this 
village,' " said Josef, "and I say 'they do not 
want to stay, only make visit,' so he say 'all 
right, come.' " 

But, when we reached land, we found that we 
were on one of the islands made by the Nile 
flood. There was still a channel several yards 
wide between us and our destination — through 
which the people had splattered and waded to 
meet us. The men with camels, boys with 
goats, women with water- jars, and even a little 
girl with four geese, had remained on the land 
side. Some strong boys of twenty years or so, 
immediately pulled off their shirts, as we hesi- 
tated at the channel and volunteered to carry 
us across. They were hospitable, these people, 
after all, and when we climbed onto their shoul- 
ders, the others quickly waded into the stream 
to follow. 

As we approached the village, which was 
perched a little higher on the mud bank than it 
had appeared, we made a strange procession. 
We walked ahead with Josef, and everybody, 
and everything seemed to be following. The 
sun was sparkling on the white sand under our 
feet, but as we looked away to the east, we saw 
bright colours on the hills of sand. Strange 
that in a land of such miraculous colours, every- 



90 The SpeU of Egypt 

thing that pertains to the life of the people 
should be so brown and dull ! There were hills 
that stood out with a coral pinkness and still 
others that were of wisteria lavender. But it 
was all desert that lay beyond, as far as we 
could see — and much further. One might wan- 
der on for days until he struck the Eed Sea, with 
only a few oases to reheve the monotony, and 
to the westward wandering might go on across 
the width of Africa, with nothing but the blaz- 
ing sun, the white sand and a few date palms 
that reach their roots through the pulverized 
mass to dampness and fertility. 

We asked the driver of the camels to pose, and 
he willingly consented, dropping down upon his 
knees, as an artistic photographer might want 
him to do, but, as he did so, he was jabbering 
in Arabic to Josef, wondering how much he 
would be paid for his services. Apparently, he 
had been farther away than the others. He 
had traded with men. 

''He say he earn twenty piastres an hour with 
his camel," interpreted Josef. 

''Tell him he lies and that we'll give him five 
if he lets us take what pictures we like," we 
said, and the man retained his kneeling posture. 
"It is well," said Josef, "he stay." We pho- 
tographed him and others about him, all of 



Dahabiyeh Days 91 

whom wanted a little pay for their services. 
Finally they all wanted to pose — all but the 
women. That was a different matter ; and, be- 
sides, an old man came running toward us, 
shouting as if he were announcing the crack of 
doom. Just how he had been outraged, we did 
not know, but we could see from his gestures 
that we were the offenders. 

'^He say that when we land on island over 
there, we step on his melon vines and he want 
pay." 

There was the usual discussion about this, and 
Josef replied to our inquiries: ''better give him 
one piastre (five cents). He say you ruin his 
crop for year.'' 

So the Egyptian farmer received five cents of 
our money for his season's crop and he touched 
his forehead to show us that he was satisfied. 

We indicated that we would like to pose some 
of the girls with water-jars again,st the mud 
bank. But this met with objection, this time 
from the sheik himself. ' ' Not the women ; " he 
said, ''it would be an outrage." 

Then we approached the sheik and deposited 
the equivalent of twenty-five cents in his palm. 
The old fellow chuckled as he struck the coin 
against his finger-nail to listen to the ring and 
satisfy himself that it was good money. He 



92 The Spell of Egypt 

mumbled something, and Josef replied: "he say 
'it is well.' " The sheik started the procession 
around his little village, and no mayor ever 
showed his municipality with greater pride. 
As the women fell back on the dirt floors and 
covered their faces, he apparently apologized, 
saying that they had never seen Europeans and 
were frightened at their white faces, but it was 
very plain that we were his friends. We came 
to where boys were driving oxen around, thresh- 
ing grain, and a man was sorting out the chaff 
with a small wooden fork. A little farther on, 
a man was plowing a field with a pointed stick, 
drawn by a lean ox and a donkey as large as a 
sheep. Still the crowd followed us in and out 
of narrow alleys, and it grew in numbers as the 
natives heard the chattering and joined in. I 
asked one of the spinning men how much he 
would take for his outfit, thread and all, and he 
seemed to be flattered. I showed him a shilling 
and he grabbed it and ran away, apparently 
afraid that I would change my mind. 

As we left El Kerimat, there was the inevi- 
table pleading and begging for money. Per- 
haps they were not used to foreign visitors, but 
they seemed to be acquainted with all manner 
of pleas of the city folk for money. They 
waded out near to the boat with outstretched 



Dahabiyeh Days 93 

palms and we threw them a few extra nickels, 
although Josef asked us not to do so. Guides in 
Egypt, like philanthropists at home, do not be- 
lieve in ''indiscriminate giving.'^ But lazi- 
ness flourishes already at El Kerimat and it 
would be difficult to ' ' encourage ' ' it more. And 
a nickel might buy a few lentils or a piece of 
black bread. 

Although the reader may suspect the neigh- 
bourhood, before we went back to the dahabiyeh 
we rowed or poled our little boat to a village*, 
the name of which shall remain a secret, chiefly 
because I believe that if it were printed, the 
''Cairo representative" of half of the vaude- 
ville lords in America and England would make 
life less pleasant for a man who is a genuine 
artist. As it is, he shall remain happy and con- 
tented, so far as any publicity that I may give 
him is concerned. He shall remain where he is 
among his bronze-skinned friends, where quite 
likely he occasionally receives a nickel coin, and 
where he seems to be appreciated — ^until some 
one else "discovers" him, or he is seized by 
wanderlust, which is not likely, and wants to 
leave his home. At least here was a spot where 
*'his own country" — ^meaning his own little vil- 
lage — applauded him, and he seemed to be very 
glad when he heard the shouts of approval and 



94 The Spell of Egypt 

saw the smiling faces. After a little experience 
in this part of the world, I am losing what pa- 
tience I ever had with those critics of Egypt 
who believe that the ''beauty" of the country 
is departing, because some of the men are earn- 
ing wages of twenty-five cents a day, by working 
from dawn until sunset — ^while they formerly 
received only a few pennies. But for all that, 
here is one man who is happier in his present 
condition. He could earn a big salary in Amer- 
ica — a country that he has likely as not never 
heard of ; but with the salary would come a new 
life, and he is happier here in his simple sur- 
roundings. 

Generally speaking, this "despoiling" process 
by contact with European, is not to be con- 
demned, however, because it put a little flesh on 
bony skeletons. It is better that a thousand 
men should have a plate of lentils for their sup- 
per at the close of day than for them to go sup- 
perless that they may be picturesque, ''as they 
were a thousand years ago" for the writers of 
fine phrases who come this way in the winter 
time to scribble about "the wonders of Egypt." 
There is just the chance that it would be better 
for the artist we found here if he were in the 
vaudeville theaters of America, astounding the 
multitudes by his wonder works. But I think 



Dahabiyeh Days 95 

not. A sliilling is now a fortune to him, be- 
cause his knowledge of the world is nothing and 
his requirements in life are on a par with that 
knowledge. He has happiness — so why run any 
chances with a large salary? I asked him how 
much would tempt him to go away with me for 
a long, long time across the seas, and he replied 
the largest amount that he knew, the English 
gold coin that is worth about five dollars in 
America. But probably the end of the world to 
this man was Cairo, which he knew lay of6 
somewhere near the end of the Nile. He knew 
absolutely of nothing beyond, and as his child- 
ish brain began to work and he began to think 
that I meant what I said and that perhaps I 
would take him away, he withdrew from what 
he considered a bargain. Fortunately for me, 
he wanted to stay where he was, among the peo- 
ple of his own village. He was afraid and dis- 
trustful of what lay beyond. 

He was in a small mud town in the Libyan 
desert — or at best, what is just one degree re- 
moved from a mud town. Several of the low 
houses with plastered domes were whitewashed 
and two or three were pink or green, because a 
little paint had been mixed with the whitewash. 
Several male members of the population were 
rich enough to wear red tarbooshes on their 



96 The Spell of Egypt 

heads, but not this youngster of about twenty 
years. His dress consisted of a long white cot- 
ton shirt, several folds of the same material 
being wound about his head into a hooded tur- 
ban. We did not see him when we first arrived, 
although it seemed to us that the entire popu- 
lation came out to meet us on our arrival. 
Here, assuredly, was another of the villages that 
are not visited by the tourists who ''do" Cairo 
in a week or so and then talk ghbly about Egypt. 
We met with nothing but childlike and trusting 
friendliness from our hosts, who seemed to want 
to appear to be so kind to us that we would want 
to return again. There were plenty of men 
and boys, as usual, who became self -constituted 
guides and couriers, mainly no doubt for the 
pennies that we would hand them when we went 
away. Josef permitted some of these to lead 
the way while we walked along single file 
through the narrow streets, and his voice was 
never heard, excepting when we wanted an in- 
terpreter. 

After a while, we came to what corresponds 
to the public square, which, in this part of the 
world, seems to be a big inclosure where the 
men may squat, talk and smoke. It was in- 
closed by mud walls about five feet high, and 
when Josef told us to ''seat ourselves," so that 



Dahabiyeh Days 97 



our hosts would feel at liberty to squat, a point 
of etiquette in which all Egyptians who con- 
sider themselves hosts are very particular, we 
did so, and a young magician, the hero of this 
story, made his appearance. We were to be en- 
tertained we were told, but before the artist 
began to show us what he could do, he asked 
Josef what we were going to give. Josef asked 
him how much he wanted and he repKed that a 
half-piastre, about two and one-half cents, 
would satisfy him. When we had deposited the 
coin in the sand at his feet, he immediately 
hopped into the circle made by his audience and 
the entertainment began— or, as we say at home, 
the curtain was rung up. 

But there was no curtain, there were no ac- 
cessories, trap doors, mirrors or black back- 
grounds, so dear to the hearts of the magicians 
who operate in America. I wondered what 
some of our celebrated magicians would have 
done under similar circumstances. The boy 
"worked" on the sand floor, he stood in the 
circle, and during his performance, he wore no 
clothing but a loin-cloth, so it was impossible 
for him to conceal things. His ''kit" was in- 
closed in a small bag on the ground, and, with 
these rather crude implements, he gave an exhi- 
bition that made the best performance of Kellar 



98 The Spell of Egypt 

or Hermann seem to be cliildish and easy. He 
began with palming, and I have never seen such 
an exhibition with a pack of cards. You saw 
the cards that he was holding and named them, 
but quicker than the eye, he substituted others 
and you looked in vain through the pack for the 
ones you had picked. He held single cards be- 
fore our eyes and they vanished into the air, 
when he made a peculiar gurgling sound with 
his throat. He pulled a small rabbit from his 
bag and we held it by the ears and fondled it 
to be convinced that it was alive and real; yet 
he took the rabbit from my hand, rolled it once 
or twice between his palms, made the same gur- 
gling sound and it disappeared as the cards had 
done. He placed four pieces of tin about the 
size of quarter-dollars in my hand and told me 
to hold them tightly. I did not know what the 
trick would be, but determined to hang onto my 
coins. Again the gurgle from his throat, I 
opened my hand and the coins were gone, and 
he took two from his own mouth and two from 
the hand of another auditor, who sat several 
feet away from me. 

The less than three-cent entertainment lasted 
for fully half an hour, and the boy's tricks 
seemed to be all as marvelous as the ones I 
have enumerated — all of them performed with 



Dahabiyeh Days 99 

these crude little things that he had collected. 
Finally, like all good entertainers, he arrived 
at his climax. He took a knife which appeared 
to be fully a half yard in length, and, throwing 
his head back, he jammed it down his throat 
to the handle, walking toward us and tapping 
his stomach with his hand to show us how far 
it had penetrated. It was a ghastly exhibition, 
and under the circumstances, I had not the 
slightest doubt that it was a genuine knife and 
not the trick affairs which slide into the handle, 
so often seen in America; nevertheless I told 
him that I doubted his last trick. He jerked the 
knife from his throat and handed it to me for 
inspection, but I told him that did not satisfy 
me, so he called to a small boy, jabbered a few 
words in Arabic and the youngster scampered 
off to a house, quickly returning with four walk- 
ing sticks, or pieces of cane fully as large as 
those used by us for walking sticks at home. 
He ran his hands over them and discarded one, 
because as he showed us, it was not smooth and 
had splinters. But he measured off fully a half 
yard and perhaps more, on the other three, 
posed for a moment with his head thrown back 
and then jammed all three of them down his 
throat to the point he had indicated. 
We were convinced. Here was the prince of 



100 The Spell of Egypt 

sword swallowers, and one of the cleverest ma- 
gicians who ever performed before an audience. 
"We applauded, and he seemed to be delighted, 
starting to retire ; but I asked Josef to call him 
back, and it was then that I ''bargained" with 
him to go across the seas — something that he 
did not appear at first to understand any more 
than he would have understood if I had at- 
tempted to argue a point in theology with him. 
An extra shilling made him happy, and he made 
a prayer to Allah to give us health, as the pro- 
cession started again through the winding 
streets of the village. 




CHAPTEE IV 

TYPES OF THE ANCIENT WOELD 

JHEN one first puts in an appearance upon 
the deck of a dahabiyeh in the morning, 
every ebony-hued gentleman of the crew, 
from the reis to the pole boys, touches his head, 
and then slaps himself over the heart. To the 
stranger it appears to be a rather clumsy gym- 
nastic exercise, but after awhile we come to 
recognize it as a sign of Arab politeness, and 
pay little attention to it. One morning, how- 
ever, when I reached the deck and expected to 
settle down on a wicker couch to look at the 
ever-changing bank of the Nile, there were no 
''monkeyshines" from the crew. The reis was 
yelling himself hoarse, and every member of 
his clan of subordinates, including the bedroom 
boys and the dining-room *' stewards," had long 
poles which they were pushing into the sand, as 
they sang the same old petition to the Prophet 
to assist them in accomplishing what seemed to 
be a rather doubtful job. The fact was that we 
were stranded high and dry on a sandbar. At 

101 



103 The Spell of Egypt 

the time it seemed to be the most hopeless 
stranding of the entire trip, because the bar ex- 
tended from shore to shore in a sort of dam, 
and it was obviously necessary to get the boat 
over it before we could proceed. 

But the other river boats, that had reached 
the bar the day before, were also stranded. 
Seeming to have no fear of a little thing like a 
collision, the reis steered into the center of the 
bunch and as we had more boys than the others, 
we made better progress and soon found our- 
selves in the center of a splashing, yelling and 
seemingly desperate crowd. Many of the boys 
jumped overboard and braced themselves 
against the dahabiyeh in the struggle for free- 
dom. Other boys from other boats were doing 
the same thing. Apparently they take pride in 
the speed with which they are able to extricate 
themselves from what our sailors at home would 
call a very tight situation. But the result was 
pandemonium. Even under these circum- 
stances, however, I realized that it was the best 
opportunity that I had found to observe the 
fellaheen at close range without being too con- 
spicuous as an observer. Sometimes we had 
skimmed along close to the banks — and we had 
visited the villages — but most of these occasions 
afforded only passing glimpses, even when we 



Types of the Ancient World 103 

took the time to dicker and bargain with them 
for photographic poses, so- when the reis said 
that there were two more bars ahead, and that 
we would be lucky to get over them inside of 
two hours, I grasped the opportunity of going 
ashore, on the shoulders of the boys, and wan- 
dered around among the men on the banks who 
were stolidly plodding along at their work, 
barely looking up even at the excitement in the 

Vlt is said to be the boast of the fellahee n^ at 
lea&t those who take enough interest in life and 
the sad lot to which they seem doomed, to boast 
about anything, that they are descended from 
the ancient Egyptians — a claim also made by 
the Copts — and that purer Egyptian blood flows 
in their veins than in those of the urban peoples 
who have mixed with other nations. But, in 
reality, they are a mixed race, Arab and Egyp- 
tian, being descended from the Arab tribes that 
settled in Egypt after the conquest of the coun- 
try by Amr, commander-in-chief of Omar the 
Khalifah. When the Arabs decided to cease 
their nomadic wanderings, they married among 
the Egyptians and their offspring are said to 
have ''favoured" the people of the adopted 
country. 
Around Cairo and the northern provinces, the 



104 The Spell of Egypt 

fellalieen have bright yellow skins, but as one 
ascends the river he observes that the skins of 
men in the field grow darker, partly due to the 
climate, but also proving a mixture of blood 
with the natives, for in upper Egypt and Nubia 
they are sometimes of dark brown complexion. 
Most of the men have squinting eye-lids that 
give them the appearance of deeply sunken eyes, 
doubtless due to their almost constant exposure 
to a scorching sun. , Many of them are afflicted 
with eye diseases, caused by dirt, flies and im- 
proper care of infants and there is much blind- 
ness, but EngKsh doctors and foreign mission- 
aries are doing much good among them by sys- 
tematic educational campaigns that will be more 
appreciated by the rising generation. But 
blindness does not seem to be so horrible to 
these people as to many of the other peoples of 
the earth. It is related that so many of them 
squirted the juice of a plant into one eye, mak- 
ing them partially blind, and thus unfit for mili- 
tary service, that a ruler defeated their artifice 
by organizing a battalion of one-eyed men. 
Then the people began to chop off one finger, 
disqualifying them under existing laws, but the 
same ruler promptly organized another bat- 
talion composed entirely of men who lacked one 
finger. The fellaheen have ever objected to a 



Types of the Ancient World 105 

foreign authority. Those who claim pure Egyp- 
tian blood for their race, claim that it was the 
unwillingness to bow to foreign authority that 
led their ancestors to the eastern deserts cen- 
turies ago and that they came back to the Nile 
country as surely a national type as when they 
left, and the type has not changed much since 
the days of Moses, if the ancient inscriptions 
and statues in stone and wood may be beheved. 

They are still a well-formed people, their prin- 
cipal facial characteristics seeming to be a slop- 
ing forehead and rather thick lips, particularly 
noticeable in the women. They have inspired 
men like Pierre Loti to rhapsodies in prose, but 
it seems that at least half of this praise must 
hav6 sprung from the association of ideas. One 
cannot merely glance at these people and fail 
to recall their noble lineage, but they are now 
perhaps the poorest people of earth, having 
fallen almost as far as did the angels who came 
to earth. Their cities were the wonders of the 
ancient world and their architecture has not 
been excelled, but to-day they live in squalid 
huts made of cane and straw and smeared with 
Nile mud. 

Their principal article of food is lentils. 
How they manage to live at all must be a mar- 
vel to those who see them in their homes. But 



106 The Spell of Egypt 

perhaps they are not as mild, childlike and meek 
as they seem, for their rugged perseverance and 
persistence through the ages, in perpetuating 
their kind at all, shows that they possess a cer- 
tain resistance and courage that would be diffi- 
cult to match elsewhere. Once they made the 
earth tremble with their power, but to-day they 
stand lifting the shaduf which carries the water 
to their parched fields, and they are clad in a 
loin cloth. They seem to be the saddest spec- 
tacle among human kind. But still they remain. 
The Persians, Grreeks, Eomans, Arabs and 
Turks have conquered them. Their politics and 
religion have been changed. Their sacred im- 
ages have been ravaged and broken. Even 
their daughters have been stolen by the enemy 
and carried away as wives and slaves. Little 
by little they have lost hold on the better things 
of life. But themselves, the conquerors have 
not changed. They lift the goatskin bucket 
from the Nile on a long pole balanced by a big 
ball of mud, and dump the water into a trench 
at a higher level. Another shaduf and another 
man, by the same process, lifts it again and still 
higher, until the top of the bank is reached and 
a narrow stream flows along over the parched 
fields of cucumbers, melons and grain. I have 
seen eight men engaged in raising water in this 



Types of the Ancient World 107 

manner at one field. It is a slow and tedious 
process, necessitating a great amount of labour ; 
but it seems to them to be the only way and 
they must make the best of it — otherwise they 
will not have even the lentils and beans which 
keep life in their bodies. Water was lifted in 
the same way from the Nile so many years be- 
fore the birth of Christ that the dawn of the 
Christian era seems modem by comparison. 
When the Nile was flooded — as it is for months 
every year — the men of the shaduf built the 
pyramids and quarried the stone for the tem- 
ples, because their king commanded them to do 
so. When the waters receded and gave them a 
few square yards of mud, they sowed their crops 
and continued the fight for life. The process is 
much the same to-day. When the waters are 
too high to work the land, their date-palms are 
taxed extortionately. When the water falls, 
they must work from dawn until sunset, either 
carrying the water for a pittance from a land- 
lord, or for their own little fields. 

I sat on the bank and watched three men at 
work with sharp sticks in about four yards of 
flat mud which had caved in from the higher 
bank, during the last flood. They had melons 
growing in the little spot, scarcely big enough 
for one man to turn around with the handle of 



108 The Spell of Egypt 

his implements. But they were working des- 
perately, these men ; fearing to lose a second of 
precious moments. Soon the Nile will rise 
again and their carefully tilled fields will be 
swept away and they must begin over again. 
It was a continuation of the struggle that they 
have endured for centuries. A little further 
along there was what I was told was a prosper- 
ous farmer, for he owned a camel. The 
creature was going around in a circle, driven by 
a naked boy, turning an ancient waterwheel, 
which had goatskin buckets on the rim, which 
lifted the water from the Nile into a little trough 
at the top of the bank, whence it flowed over 
another small field. This method of raising 
the water is also as old as Moses and probably 
a good deal older; although strangely enough, 
the camel, which seems as old as Egypt itself, 
is never pictured by ancient artists or sculp- 
tured in stone. It is the belief of some sci- 
entists that the camel was held partially sacred 
— or at least that it was forbidden by the priests 
to make lasting representations of it. Other 
water wheels, called sakiehs in Egypt, were pro- 
pelled by cows, water buffalo or diminutive don- 
keys. I saw one that was being turned by two 
women — perhaps widows, who are unfortunate 
even among these unfortunates — or perhaps 



Types of the Ancient World 109 



they were the daughters of the owners of the 
field. 

SjShe women of the fellaheen have a very dull 
existence, even when compared to the men or to 
their Mohammedan sisters in the cities. They 
are not beautiful women, as has been hinted by 
travelers who apparently never looked behind 
their veils. Usually they have broad, oval 
countenances and their eyes are sometimes 
black, beautiful and sparkling. But their eye- 
lids are usually daubed with kohl, said to be 
the smokeblack from an aromatic resin or the 
charred remains of almond shells. Their lips 
and chins are so covered with indigo tattoo 
marks, sometimes in fantastic designs to re- 
semble flowers or birds but more frequently in 
lines that resemble beards or curved mustaches, 
that often enough pretty young faces resemble 
the makeup of a clown and natural beauty seems 
quite hidden by their efforts to be "beautiful" 
by artificial means. 

This extensive use of JcoJil is of ancient 
origin, as it was in use among ancient Egyptian 
and Hebrew women. The women of the fella- 
heen, as well as those of the cities, usually stain 
their finger-nails and toe-nails and sometimes 
the fingers and toes to the first joint with henna 
which gives them a brownish-orange colour ; and 



110 The Spell of Egypt 

sometimes the colouring process extends over 
the palm of the hand and sole of the foot. They 
like to wear cheap ornaments, brass nose-rings, 
gaudy necklaces and bracelets of brass or cop- 
per wire and beads. But this superficial mark 
of extravagance is not extravagance even for 
the fellaheen. And it seems unlikely that they 
are as happy as they appear to be. They must 
do much hard work, perhaps more than the men, 
for while they do not work in the fields to any 
extent, they must prepare and cook the food for 
their lords and masters, bring all the water 
from the river in big earthenware jugs, which 
they poise gracefully on their heads, make the 
fuel which is composed of cattle or camel dung 
and chopped straw, and formerly they were 
compelled to weave the cloth for the family 
wardrobe, although this latter is procurable in 
the bazars so cheap that even the poorest peas- 
ant seldom weaves by hand. 

Domestic conditions among the fellaheen, 
however, are not much different than among 
other Mohammedans, excepting that the people 
are poorer, and the widow seems to be even a 
more pathetic figure than elsewhere. All the 
men appear to be married, and usually several 
times married, for the Prophet, apparently 
from a charitable motive, commanded his fol- 



Types of the Ancient World 111 

lowers to show '^ equity" among orphan girls 
by marrying three or four of them. It seems 
humorous when one first hears that the girl who 
has no female relatives is considered the most 
desirable bride. Girls are usually betrothed 
when they are seven or eight years old and 
few of them remain unmarried after they are 
sixteen years of age. 

The curse of the domestic relation does not 
lie in plural marriage, however, but in the ease 
with which a divorce is obtained. **Thou art 
divorced" when spoken by the husband turns 
his wife from the family roof. Even if the 
words are spoken in anger, they carry the same 
legal force. It is possible for a man to divorce 
his wife twice and receive her back, but after 
the third ''divorce," she must be married and 
divorced from another man before becoming 
his legal wife again. It has been claimed by 
close observers that this abuse of divorce is the 
principal mental, moral and physical curse of 
the fellaheen. It is said to have been proved 
that one man had twenty wives in ten years and 
that women have had a dozen husbands in the 
same length of time. The women have no more 
education than the animals of the field. 

Sometimes when a man is speaking of the 
female members of his household, although it is 



112 The Spell of Egypt 

a breach of etiquette to inquire of their health, 
he speaks of them as he would of his donkeys 
or camels. They are not encouraged to adopt 
religion, because they do not count for much 
in the Mohammedan world. The men do the 
praying — you can see them all along the river- 
bank, with their mats or towels spread out, their 
shoes off and their knees inclined toward Mecca, 
while the women stay at home and work. The 
Prophet said : '* An hour at the distaff is better 
for a woman than a year's worship" — so they 
do not go to the mosque, even in the larger vil- 
lages, and they do not pray at home. But they, 
like their husbands, fathers and brothers, seem 
to be contented, and sometimes they wear a 
smile. They know nothing else, therefore per- 
haps they believe that theirs is the lot of woman- 
kind. 

I saw some of the sturdy boys stop a few 
moments for their midday meal. They ate 
black millet cakes and raw vegetables. One 
chewed on a piece of sugar-cane and a dum- 
palm nut, both of which would have lacerated 
the lips and gums of one unused to them. But 
they smiled and seemed to be tolerably happy. 

As I wandered along the river-bank, full of 
questions for every one who would answer 
them, and thoroughly absorbed in all that I saw, 



Types of the Ancient World 113 

they called to me from the ^'Seti," which had 
freed herself on beyond the third bar, and as I 
was carried out to her, we passed among water 
buffalo taking a noonday siesta in the cool 
water. They looked like herds of hippopotami, 
as they lay there partially covered, only keep- 
ing the tops of their backs and their snouts out 
of the water. I saw so much that was ancient 
about me that I looked around for a lotus flower. 
But the only lotus that we have seen was graven 
in a stone four thousand years ago. The lotus 
has gone with the other glory. The animals did 
not stir as we passed among them. Like their 
owners, the fellaheen, they seemed to be only 
dimly conscious of the fact that they were alive. 
They wanted to eat and drink and rest. They, 
too, were crushed beneath the yoke of unre- 
warded toil. Perhaps they were dreaming of 
that far-away day when they too were free. 

Quite apropos to my little excursion among 
the fellaheen, where there were so many matri- 
monial tangles, I had not been on the dahabiyeh 
an hour when the reis gave me a shock that 
seemed to be more thrilling than any of the 
others in this land of so many shocks and sur- 
prises. 

Now, the reis is not exactly what in America 
would be called a Don Juan or a heart-breaker 



114 The Spell of Egypt 

even among Nubian maids, or at least it would 
not seem possible for Mm to be. He is a tall, 
bony young fellow who looks as if he had been 
shined with stove polish. He always goes bare- 
footed — or he had until today, but I observed 
that he had poked his bare feet into a bright 
pair of pointed Turkish slippers. He had 
wound his head with clean white cloth, and in- 
stead of the long black coat that resembles a 
Mother Hubbard, he wore a short white linen 
skirt that hung to his knees. So I imagined 
that something was going to happen, and as dur- 
ing so many strange performances of the past, 
I watched him carefully. The reis is a very 
religious man. He seems to be always praying, 
preparing to pray or just finishing his prayers. 
When he is not puffing cigarettes or pointing his 
long bony finger toward the stream to guide the 
steersman, he is very likely to be kneeling or 
swinging his arms toward Mecca. Usually he 
merely goes down to the lower deck, splashes a 
little Nile water on his face and dangles his feet 
overboard — for all good Mohammedans must 
wash before they pray — or if there is no water 
handy rub sand on their arms and feet and go 
through the motions of bathing; but there are 
other ceremonials so complicated that it is diffi- 
cult for an Occidental mind to grasp them in a 



Types of the Ancient World 115 

brief thirty days, so some time ago I merely 
decided to look on and not try to understand. 
After the sun has set I have seen him open the 
big box near the wheel, take out spotless white 
linen and array himself in toggery that made 
him look like an African bride, before he spread 
his little rug and fell down upon his knees to 
declare that Mahomet was the prophet of God 
and the greatest of the prophets. 

On this particular day of which this is a feeble 
account, and cannot possibly convey an idea of 
what might be called the pure splendour of his 
raiment, however, he pointed his big index 
finger toward the bank and the dahabiyeh went 
bang into the sand. Four or five of the boys 
went splashing overboard into the water, drag- 
ging a big plank after them and placing it so 
that he might pass high and dry to terra firma. 
The reis, with all dignity, stepped ashore. On 
the bank sat three black women shrouded in 
long black mantles, which they held over their 
faces so that only their eyes and foreheads were 
visible. But they were bright and sparkling 
eyes that seemed to wander to the deck of the 
''Seti" as much as to the gentleman who had 
stepped ashore. The three arose and stood 
erect as the reis approached them. He did not 
even touch them by the hand, and, of course. 



116 The Spell of Egypt 

committed no such indiscretion as to kiss them. 
He touched his hand to his forehead and then to 
his heart and bowed, whereupon they began to 
chatter — all three talking at once. But the 
meeting was brief. Each girl or woman — I 
could not guess their ages — handed him a little 
bundle of clean clothes, which he graciously per- 
mitted them to place on his arm. They chat- 
tered some more and he began to retreat toward 
the boat. Soon he was aboard again ; he rang a 
bell three times and the boys poled back into the 
stream. He leaned out from the box on which 
he squats all day long, and touched his forehead 
again, and the three women stood there motion- 
less as we ghded away. Several minutes later, 
after he had ceased to look in that direction, I 
could see three black forms disappearing in the 
yellow sand near a mud village, back toward the 
mountain range. Perhaps it would have been 
bad luck for the reis to look back — ^perhaps it 
would have indicated weakness, for the Moham- 
medan gentleman should be stolid and unmoved 
when he is breaking home ties. 

And that is what it was. These were not 
three laundry women who had brought his clean 
linen to the boat. They were his wives. Three 
of them! This dignified officer of the Nile re- 
ceives the equivalent of seventy-five cents a day 



Types of the Ancient World 117 

for his salary and he supports a liberal house- 
hold, including three mothers of his children. 
They live up there in the mud village beside the 
mountain and each wife has her own home! 
Or, to be more exact, each wife has her own 
single room of mud plastered over sun-baked 
bricks, and the ^'homes'' of all three adjoin the 
same courtyard, which is the family castle. 
Each built her own home, but perhaps this was 
not so much of an ordeal, for the man of the 
house is seldom at home. Like other captains, 
he has his long season on the river, and only 
in the dead of summer is he able to reign on his 
throne. The meeting on the bank of the river 
occurs about once in thirty days. It is brief 
and dignified, and the rest of the time the wives 
have nothing to do for him but prepare his clean 
laundry, administer to the needs of his drove 
of children, patch up their houses with new mud 
bricks, carry a jar of water from the river every 
day, stew a few lentils, raise a few cucumbers 
and radishes, which later are eaten tops and 
all — and wait for the happy summer days to 
come. 

''Well, at least you must admit it that there 
are no — ^what you call them? — old maids in 
Egypt," commented Josef after he had given 
me a few intimate details into the life of the 



118 The Spell of Egypt 

reis. ''All the old maids come from America. 
Look what we saw last night." He spat over 
the rail of the boat to show his disgust. "It 
was all very terrible." 

And this reference to "last night" makes it 
necessary to tell tales out of school, the story 
of an "orgy" indulged in by two English 
spinsters. We had run along the river as far 
as was safe, on account of the sandbars, al- 
though the moon was nearly full and night 
seems almost as light as day at home. But 
night shadows make navigation dangerous on 
the Nile at this season of year, so shortly after 
sunset all the boatmen begin to watch the bank 
for a convenient place to anchor for the night. 
It was a rude thing to do, perhaps — for English 
notoriously prefer to be alone, and the two 
spinsters, whose boatmen tell our boys that they 
have spent four months on the Nile, were no ex- 
ceptions to the rule. Their dahabiyeh had tied 
up to the mud bank for the night, and because 
it was a safe shelter from the current, we 
anchored beside them. It was too late for them 
to move up or down, so as we sat on deck we 
were witnesses of an al fresco entertainment 
which had been arranged for their amusement. 
Doubtless these ladies had been in Egypt long 
enough to permit the sunshine to permeate to 



Types of the Ancient World 119 

the marrow of their bones. One soon comes to 
love the plaintive music of Egypt and the 
rhythm of the tom-toms. The whirling dance 
of the natives seems to be part and parcel of 
this life, and it is not strange that one comes to 
admire it as he never could admire dancing and 
music in the gilded and artificial surroundings 
of theaters and music halls at home. 

About nine o'clock, from a mud village a 
mile from the river, came a troupe of ' ' theatri- 
cal people" specially engaged for the evening 
by the * ^ old maids ' ' upon whom Josef looks with 
contempt. Either quite unaware of our pres- 
ence on the shelter of our own deck or ignoring 
us altogether, the two ladies, perhaps fifty years 
of age, took their places on a raised dais on their 
own deck and the signal was given for the 
*' troupe" to come aboard. The lights from 
many candles made the picture even more fan- 
tastic, and a soft hot wind from the Libyan 
desert caused a gentle flicker of the flames that 
shone on white costumes. There were four 
boys who played the fife and tom-toms and 
they squatted themselves at the foot of the 
dais. Dancing girls'? Nay and not so! The 
spinsters had a couple of dancing boys dressed 
in white lawn garments that resembled ballet 
skirts. The music started slowly and the boys 



120 The SpeU of Egypt 

approached and bowed to their hostesses, be- 
ginning to whirl and gyrate as they did so. 
The music finally screeched with shrill pipings 
that smote the evening air and boys danced 
rapidly with the grace and abandon of desert 
girls. There were short intervals of rest and 
then the dancing was renewed, with only the 
slightest variance upon the same monotonous 
strains of music. For fully two hours it lasted 
and the old maids sat primly on their dais and 
silently watched. Doubtless they had poetic 
souls, and this to them was the very spirit of 
Egypt. Finally, after eleven o'clock, one of 
them clapped her hands. A servant brought 
Turkish coffee for every one. Good nights 
were said and there was a jingle of money as 
the troupe filed off the dahabiyeh singing a 
song. Soon the lights were extinguished and 
all became quiet. The English ladies had re- 
tired. 

*'It is disgust," said Josef, but Josef knows 
little about American or English ladies and the 
''freedom" that they enjoy at home or abroad, 
although he has been a dragoman for thirty 
years. 




CHAPTER V 

MINIATUEE CAIEOS 

;S the days pass, we more and more appre- 
ciate the wisdom of our dragoman. It is 
better for the stranger to visit the villages, 
towns and cities of Egypt before he sees Cairo. 
They are all miniature Cairos. Even the mud 
village of the fellaheen shows the "influence" 
of the capital city. At some time or other some 
one has come to the village from the wonderful 
city down the river. He has told of the archi- 
tecture, costumes and customs, and one day, the 
mud village imitates the city, just as villages 
imitate the city in other lands. The poor 
minaret of the mosque in the village may be cov- 
ered with mud and set on four poles, but it takes 
on the form of the mosque at Cairo. The mar- 
ket is a miniature of that throbbing and bustling 
scene in the bazaar. Even the mud-houses seem 
sometimes to faintly suggest with poles and 
sun-dried bricks, the magnificent palaces of 
stone nearer the Delta. 
It is preferable to reach the climax of aU 

121 



122 The Spell of Egypt 

things by degrees, and it seems as if Nile sights 
had been arranged by some wonderful stage di- 
rector, permitting one to enjoy today only a 
taste of what he will see tomorrow. First, one 
of the lesser temples, but after many temples, 
then those magnificent piles at Luxor, Karnak 
and Phil^. First, the mud village by the river 
brink, then a town that still has many mud huts, 
but a few more permanent buildings, an attrac- 
tive mosque and a bazar worthy of the name, 
then a city barely emerged from the importance 
of a village, but enjoying a post-of&ce, perhaps 
a few government officials and appropriate res- 
idences or official buildings; and, finally, one 
day, a city that seems to be a metropolis in 
this desert waste. The appetite is constantly 
whetted for something better, and although an- 
ticipations are realized when the day arrives, 
other anticipations are created. Each day as 
we loiter along the river we think of that day 
when we will be in Cairo ; but we are glad that 
the day will not arrive sooner. We are prepar- 
ing ourselves for Cairo, just as we want to be 
prepared by visiting little Cairos which pass 
by other names. 

A place too small and too "uninteresting" 
for the tourists who travel on luxurious steam- 
ers or by rail, and yet a city that claims over 



Miniature Cairos 123 

twenty-five thousand inhabitants, is Minieh. It 
was the first city of any importance that we vis- 
ited along the Nile, in our gradual approach 
toward a metropolis. It was late in the after- 
noon when we arrived at Minieh and it seemed 
to be spectacular landing, one of those things 
that might have been stage-managed by a 
Belasco for the purpose of arousing the emo- 
tions of his audience. But no Belasco was re- 
sponsible for bringing us to this place that, be- 
fore the railroad came, was a big center for the 
caravans that came from the deserts on both 
sides of the river. 

Our landing was much like dozens of other 
landings at various places. We had the same 
steep climb up the river-bank, along the path 
of mud among staring natives, and it was not 
until later that we realized what the reis had 
done — ^perhaps for his own convenience, for he 
prays five times a day, preferably in a mosque. 
The reis had brought us to the base of an old 
mosque — one of the oldest that we have yet seen 
—and as we started to leave the boat the muez- 
zin came out on his lofty balcony, calling the 
faithful to prayers. This caused us to hesitate 
for a few moments, as the reis and several of 
his men scampered up the hill to the sanctuary, 
and as we looked around we saw that we were to 



124 The Spell of Egypt 

spend the night amid most unusual surround- 
ings. Everything about us fairly creaked with 
antiquity — everything was glowingly Oriental 
and unspoiled by Western invaders in the form 
of tourists. We had almost a mind to return 
to the deck of the boat and take in the scenes as 
they presented themselves at our leisure. But 
we had started, and knowing that our dahabiyeh 
was tied up for the night, we decided to walk 
along into town. 

Josef had selected exactly the sort of place 
we wanted to visit. The streets seemed to be 
crowded as they would be at home for a circus 
parade, but out of the crowd of strange-looking 
men, donkeys, camels and what-not we soon be- 
came objects of curiosity. Lead a herd of ele- 
phants through the crowded streets of an Amer- 
ican city and they will attract no more attention 
than we did as we tagged along behind Josef, 
with cameras ready to snap anything of special 
interest. First of all we wanted to go to the 
post-office, for we had letters that had been 
ready for mailing for many days — so, of course, 
we were led through the big native bazar. 
These Orientals do like to strut through the 
narrow streets overhung with striped cloth, 
where men squat before their little booths and 
shout at aU who pass. In this matter Josef 




STREET SCENE, MINIEH. 



Miniature Cairos 125 



was no exception ; no Oriental ever loved it bet- 
ter than he. As the merchants yell out their 
goods and the price that they do not expect to 
receive, if they make any sales, Josef struts 
along ahead of us and shakes his fist at them, 
shouting *' thief, robber— your goods are not 
worth a tenth of the price." All of which 
strikes us as rather ridiculous when he expects 
to make no purchases. Perhaps it is the same 
old Oriental love of haggling, talking inces- 
santly and bargaining, perhaps — and this sur- 
mise is probably nearer the truth — Josef feels 
his position. 

He is popularly known as ''the best dragoman 
in Egypt." He can lead his tourists through 
the streets to the merchant that he likes, so he 
never fails to show them all that he fully appre- 
ciates his own superiority. Sometimes we 
make little purchases just for the sport of look- 
ing on. The thing bought may cost ten or fif- 
teen cents, but the merchant will ask seventy- 
five cents at the beginning, and then Josef tells 
him that he is a liar when he says that what he 
offers is worth seventy-five cents, in fact he is a 
fool to expect fifty cents, and if he were in his 
sane mind he would not ask more than thirty 
cents. The merchant replies that the article 
cost him forty cents. ''Cheat!" hisses Josef. 



126 The Spell of Egypt 

''If you took it for thirty cents I would lose ten 
cents and I am a poor man. You would not 
want me to do that '? ' ' asks the merchant. 

''Fifteen cents," yells Josef at the end of the 
talk. "All right," says the merchant, and he 
places the article in your hands, after making 
a fifty percent, profit. 

Some of these experiences were repeated at 
Minieh, but the funniest thing of all was the 
meeting with the representatives of His 
Majesty, the Khedive, at the post-office. A 
somewhat stately stone structure that faces a 
little plaza, where there are ferns, palms and 
flowers, is the government building. The plaza 
was filled with little tables, when we arrived, 
after the fashion of Cairo and Paris, and people 
were sitting there chatting, smoking and drink- 
ing Turkish coffee. At least, they were sitting 
until we arrived, and then it seemed that all 
the crowd arose and suddenly buzzed around 
us. It is literally true that as we stood on the 
sidewalk in front of the little grated window 
at the post-office and attempted to purchase 
stamps, the native policeman who was attempt- 
ing to keep back the crowd, lost his patience, 
rushed over to a cart, grabbed a long-lashed 
whip and used it menacingly on a few young- 
sters in the front of the mob, while he held it 




GENERAL VIEW, MINIEH. 



Miniature Cairos 127 

over the heads of the others in a threatening 
manner. 

Usually when traveling, I have found the 
post-office the most reliable place at which to 
obtain change. So at Minieh I handed the 
postal clerk an English sovereign to pay for the 
stamps that I desired. He threw up his hands 
in astonishment and screeched something before 
he picked up the piece of gold. Other clerks 
came running and a lively discussion followed. 
Finally there were five clerks who inspected 
the money, after which one of them put it 
on the scales and sneeringly handed it back to 
me. 

''He say it is light weight," said Josef, "so 
give him another." I did so, and it passed a 
rigid examination, but, instead of finishing the 
transaction, the difficulties seemed to begin. 

"He say he have not so much change in the 
post-office," said Josef. "Give him small 
change, he say." But after many days on the 
river I had exhausted my supply, so a compro- 
mise was finally suggested, to which I readily 
agreed. They had about the equivalent of $2.50 
on hand at the post-office. They gave me that 
and the remainder of my five dollars in stamps ; 
some of them in such small denominations that 
I was obliged to stick twenty of them on a letter 



128 The Spell of Egypt 

bound for America. So I stood back on the 
walk, plastering the stamps on my letters — 
across the back and front of the envelope. At 
my side was a public letter-writer who did little 
business while the *' Americanos" were near 
him. The venders of perfumed and flavoured 
waters passed with goatskins over their shoul- 
ders. They attracted attention by beating 
brass cymbals together and seemed to be doing 
a flourishing business. Their delicacy was a 
cent a glass. In several of the other villages we 
had seen them, but these had been common ped- 
dlers of Nile water. In Minieh they put orange 
petals and scented leaves in the water to make 
it appetizing. Other venders passed selling lit- 
tle plates of ice and syrup. The plates were 
about the size of the rim of a teacup, so they held 
about a teaspoonful; but gray-bearded men, 
swagger youth carrying long white staffs and 
wearing tarbooshes and all conditions of men, 
stood with these toys in their hands and sipped 
from toy spoons as they observed us and com- 
mented upon our appearance. 

After the post-office episode I told Josef that 
I wanted a pair of Egyptian slippers, so back 
we went to the bazar with seemingly half of the 
city's population tagging at our heels. The 
shoe merchant asked fifty cents for the slippers, 




AN EGYPTIAN WATER SELLER. 



Miniature Cairos 129 

but Josef, seemingly tired for once of haggling 
with a merchant, merely handed him ten cents, 
and the man touched his hand to his head and 
bowed profoundly, showing that he was satis- 
fied. When we reached the river again, the po- 
lice held back the people at the bank, as they 
tried to sell necklaces, shawls, scarabs, jewelry 
and everything that exists for sale in Minieh. 
But as night fell they all went away and seemed 
to lose their curiosity. 

As we sat on deck, beneath the minaret of the 
mosque, the skies slowly turned from orange to 
lilac and purple of night, throwing a strange 
pink light over the city's buildings. The 
mimosa trees and date-palms became black, and 
great white cranes, seemingly knowing that 
their wings had an appropriate background, 
circled over our heads, over the deep azure river 
and over the many white-sailed dahabiyehs that 
were floating along in the breezeless night, pro- 
pelled by rowers who were chanting weirdly as 
they tugged at the oars. Dimly, we could see 
the black-draped figures of numberless women 
approach the river's brink, and we know that 
the splashes in the water were caused by the 
dropping of their heavy jugs, which they twirl 
around until they are filled, after which they 
raise them laboriously to their heads and then 



130 The SpeU of Egypt 

skip up the banks and disappear in the darkness 
of the night. The sounds of the city ceased and 
all was quiet — all but the plaintive lay of a piper 
who must have been somewhere not far off on 
the bank of the river. It seemed that he was 
playing the love song of Larbi of Beni-Mora. 
It was monotonous and drowsy and invoked 
sleep. In the morning before dawn I heard the 
boys pulKng the stake near my window. I had 
fallen asleep to native music and now I was 
awakened by their song. As we started up the 
river, the clarion call of the muezzin rang out 
from the minaret. For good Mohammedans it 
meant that a new day had begun — but for infi- 
del Americans, there were several additional 
hours of sleep. 

On my return from the post-office at Menieh, 
however, I chatted with old Abou Bakr Hassan 
Fayed. He came from away back in the desert, 
and he was not making a holiday of his visit 
to the little Nile city. "With him came a long 
train of camels laden with palm fiber and dates. 
He was a good merchant, this grisly old Hassan, 
and he sat in the bazaar with his life-long friend, 
whose name also was Hassan, and together they 
deigned to offer a cup of coffee to those who 
came to bargain with them. They sat in front 
of the store on little wicker stools about six 



Miniature Cairos 131 

inches high, puffed cigarettes or a narghile, and 
they had not the appearance of engaging in such 
a vulgar pursuit as that of buying and selling. 
But in a few days Hassan would return to the 
desert well satisfied with his visit to Menieh. 
There would be money in his purse, provisions 
on the backs of his camels, boxes of candy and 
bolts of gaudy cahco for his wives. For Has- 
san was prodigal in expenditures. I never saw 
the female members of his household, for they 
remained behind in their desert camps; but 
doubtless they were not unlike the women in the 
tents of other desert men. Probably their arms 
were encircled by tin, lead and zinc bracelets, 
from their wrists to their elbows. Hassan "un- 
derstood" women. He admitted it. He knew 
how to appeal to their vanity. 

"Curse America!" he said to me through an 
interpreter, as I sat beside him on a dirty little 
stool puffing my pipe and hoping that tobacco 
was a disinfectant. But he did not mean ex- 
actly what he said, because his crinlded and 
parched face merely smiled a pleasant reproach 
that did not indicate anger. What he meant 
no doubt was "I blame America. ' ' I had asked 
him about the dancing girls of the desert, those 
bronze-skinned beauties who whirl to the 
rhythm of music before the tents of the Arab, 



132 The Spell of Egypt 

after the sun has set and the fires have begun 
to cast a glow across the sands. 

*' There are no dancing girls any more," he 
said. ''America spoiled them. You remember 
they went to Chicago for the World's Fair. 
Some of them remained. Others came back to 
Cairo and told the other dancing girls of what 
had happened. Arabs might like to see them; 
but white men paid real gold. So they went otf 
to America in droves. And they went to 
Europe. Those who stayed, made their dance 
vulgar, trying to imitate their sisters who went 
over-sea. There were white tourists in Cairo. 
They must see the 'vulgar' dance that they had 
heard about in America. So all of the girls be- 
gan to dance — ^not as they had been taught to 
dance when they were children, but as those 
girls had danced who went to Chicago. The 
result? Well, you'll not find any more desert 
dancing girls in Egypt. They were spoiled by 
America. ' ' 

And when old Hassan delivered an opinion 
of this sort, it seemed to be final. The interpre- 
ter explained to me that he was "veera reech 
man" — and wealth clothes one's words with 
authority in Egypt. I saw a group of men ap- 
proach an old fellow and kiss his hand. They 
were merchants and were transacting business 



Miniature Cairos 133 

with him, but when I asked for an explanation 
in regard to so much deference and salaaming, 
I received the same reply: "He veera reech 
man.'^ So Hassan's pronunciamento was dis- 
couraging. He advised me to wait until I 
reached Cairo if I wanted to see the dancers. 
"Cairo pays them better, and as soon as they 
hear about it, they go there," he explained. 
"Most of them have husbands who want the 
money." 

There was just a chance, however, and Has- 
san told me about the mud village of El Mazata. 
When Assiout or Cairo wanted new dancers, 
they usually sent to the handsome young sheik 
of Mazata; and sometimes he was able to pro- 
vide them, but often unable to do so. The car- 
avans from the Arabian desert came to the Nile 
at El Mazata, and sometimes it happened that 
they brought with them beautiful girls — girls 
who had not yet heard of Cairo and the World's 
Fair at Chicago. But Hassan could not offer 
much hope. The next order that the old black 
reis on the dahabiyeh received, after we started 
up the river, however, was to stop at El Mazata, 
which would be reached the following morning. 
Hassan said that we might use his name as an 
introduction to the young sheik. His father had 
been Hassan's friend, and such an introduction 



134 The Spell of Egypt 

was not to be ignored. At least, it might hasten 
matters. Oriental manners do not usually ad- 
mit of haste in these matters of introduction, so 
we felt that we had gained one point and eagerly 
looked forward to the break of day. 

It was a daffodil yellow morning when we 
found ourselves moored to the mud-bank and 
beheld Mazata, like a splotch of brown paper in 
the desert. But even this brown became a 
strange ochre when seen in the mystic light from 
the east. There were a few palms that waved 
their dark green plumes over the village, but 
they were so rank upon the dizzying landscape 
that they stood out in contrast like the colours 
on a Venetian blanket. These lights and col- 
ours are so unusual and mystifying to the un- 
initiated that many people claim not to see them 
at all, but they are here, mysterious and un- 
canny, to one who looks for them. 

We immediately became objects of interest 
to the people of El Mazata. They came run- 
ning to the river-bank as soon as they saw us 
moored to the bank just below their village. 
Men, women and children lined themselves up 
and stood staring at us, speculating as to our 
mission, and, as is the case when there is any- 
thing to talk about, gesticulating wildly. The 
few words that our dragoman caught and trans- 



Miniature Cairos 135 



lated for us proved that we were taken for 
representatives of King George's government. 
All that we needed were ''fezzes" to make ns 
*' officials" in the eyes of these Egyptians, and 
nothing could be more detrimental to such a 
mission as we were projecting. England has 
not smiled upon the dancers of Egypt, and the 
people are suspicious. They do not care to take 
any chances, for the government has frequently 
''made examples" of the few unfortunates who 
have suffered for the ''sins" of the many. All 
of Egypt seems to desire to be a guide, so we 
readily found two men who acted as our escort 
to the young sheik. 

We found him in perhaps the largest mud- 
house in the village. The Hotel de Ville was 
surrounded by a high mud fence, behind which, 
in the courtyard, were several camels and a 
cow. We passed the livestock, one of the men 
pounded on a big door made of Standard Oil 
cans, flattened into sheets, and immediately we 
were ushered into the presence of the young 
man, who sat upon a big red mattress in the cor- 
ner of the room, smoking his hookah. He 
looked up surprised, but merely pointed to an- 
other faded mattress upon which we were in- 
vited to sit. Immediately the young Arab 
asked a lot of foolish questions. He did not 



136 The Spell of Egypt 

come to the point and ask who we were, where 
we came from, or what we wanted — perhaps he 
did not care. Several desert men — as black as 
Sudanese, strolled into the room and dropped 
down on their haunches without ceremony. 
Perhaps they were his ''ministers of state," or 
something like that, for they seemed to be per- 
sons of importance. The young sheik clapped 
his hands and a black boy entered, carrying a 
tray upon which were a dozen little cups filled 
to the brim with hot Turkish coffee. At a sig- 
nal from ''his honour" we all drank, or pre- 
tended to drink. The beverage was too hot for 
me and I merely held the cup to my lips, but 
the sheik swallowed his cupful at one gulp, 
and gave a gentle grunt of satisfaction to show, 
no doubt, that he was enjoying himself. In my 
striving to be "Orientally polite" I wondered 
if I was supposed to grunt also, but I decided to 
wait until the coffee cooled, and as the young 
man had the most surprising supply of ques- 
tions in store, our thoughts soon drifted from 
the coffee, and the sheik seemed to be so friendly 
that we almost congratulated ourselves upon 
the fact that it was about time to "talk busi- 
ness." 

But our dragoman knew better. The sheik 
knew perfectly well that we had not paid him a 



Miniature Cairos 137 

visit in Ms desert castle for the sole reason of 
paying Mm a visit, and as onr guides constantly 
admonished us against making any reference to 
the real purpose of our call, lest we ''spoil 
everything," we stayed on and on — perhaps an 
hour — before we dared to make any reference 
to our "mission." Finally, the guide ventured 
that his friends, the Americans — who had noth- 
ing to do with the English or Egyptian govern- 
ments — had hoped always, when they were jour- 
neying in the desert, that they might come 
across some genuine dancing girls, those ''beau- 
tiful creatures ' ' who wile away so many tedious 
hours for the sons of the desert. The Ameri- 
cans, he told them, had seen many dancers, yes, 
they had seen the dancers of all nations. But 
they felt that certainly the most beautiful of all 
would be the desert girls with the long rings in 
their ears, the kohl under their eyes, red 
finger-nails and graceful gestures and postur- 
ings. Trust to the guide to weave a rhetorical 
rhapsody around such a subject! The sheik 
shouted something and smiled. "He say you 
are veer fortunate," interpreted the guide. 
"Last night two girls came in a caravan from 
the south and they are still in the village. All 
the other dancers are old — ^twenty-one or 
twenty-two years old — ^he says, but the two are 



138 The Spell of Egypt 

beautiful young ladies — and they are young." 
''And these girls will dance for us?" I 
inquired, unable to curb my curiosity any 
longer. 

"He says, yes, they will," replied the drago- 
man, as the sheik shouted something to a couple 
of black boys who disappeared through the open 
door and "his honour" again drank a cup of 
coffee and grunted his satisfaction. He told 
the servant to offer us another cup, and we were 
so delighted with the prospect that we drank 
the seemingly red-hot stuff as if it had been iced- 
lemonade and assured him that it was wonder- 
ful coffee. At least half of the difficulties 
seemed to have been overcome, for the proud 
young sheik had voluntarily told us of the girls, 
and he seemed to be friendly. Our dragoman 
told us in an undertone that the sheik had sent 
for the girls to be brought to his mud palace. 
We even thought that after another hour's de- 
lay the guide might venture the news that the 
Americans wanted to photograph the girls, 
while they were dancing. We knew it would be 
useless to attempt to explain anything about 
motion pictures, but we thought that "his 
honour" would understand the workings of the 
camera. All of these people, however, hold 
cameras in deathly horror, and believe it to be 



Miniature Cairos 139 

an instrument of the devil. I have seen young 
men and women weep piteously when their 
elders made them pose, and I have seen brave 
men of the desert take to their heels when asked 
to stand in front of the picture machine. 

But the guides paved the way, by suggesting 
that we make the sheik a pretty little present of 
about fifty cents — which we did, and it was 
worth the price to observe the smile of satisfac- 
tion that spread over the young nabob's face. 
Here were callers worth entertaining, they were 
very rich, and they must be royally entertained. 
Verily, it seemed that if at the moment we had 
asked the young sheik for a couple of favourite 
wives, he would have opened negotiations. But 
trouble started when the servants returned 
to their master. Three or four old women, 
smoking home-made stogies, followed as far as 
the doorway, and it was plain to be seen that 
they were raising vigorous objections to the 
sheik's plan. It seemed to us that in Arabic he 
told them curtly to *'go away back and sit 
down," for he shouted at them and waved his 
hands, but they declined to do as he told them 
and continued to jabber. 

'* Those girls, they are afraid that you are 
from the government," said our interpreter, 
after he had caught enough of the conversation 



140 The Spell of Egypt 

to know the cause of the delay, "but the sheik 
he tell them no and send word for them to come 
here." Then we talked and talked, or, that is, 
the sheik's questions were answered, for he in- 
quired about everything under the sun. Per- 
haps it was an hour later. By rare diplomacy, 
unknown to Occidentals, the guide and inter- 
preter had won the sheik over to our side. We 
would go and get the girls ourselves, for they 
declined to come to us, even after the ruler of 
the village had sent word for them to do so. 
The sheik remarked that if we desired he would 
bring the girls to us himself. It was rather 
embarrassing and he did not purpose to tol- 
erate such insubordination. But we told him 
that we would accompany him, and so we all 
emerged from the little doorway, to find the 
courtyard crowded with people. News travels 
fast in El Mazata, and while we had been drink- 
ing the sheik's coffee some busybody had run 
from door to door in the village with the news 
of our arrival. Apparently every one re- 
sponded. They were all there to observe us, 
even the man with the brass band on his arm, 
who announced that he was the village police- 
man and would act as our protector during our 
visit. We followed the sheik through the nar- 
row alleys of the mud village to the house of the 



Miniature Cairos 141 

dancers, while the sheik entered rather "uncere- 
moniously. We could hear the objections, 
probably reiterations of what we had heard, 
that we were government agents. But for once 
we had not long to wait. The sheik came 
through the doorway of the house jerking two 
young damsels by the wrists. They were thor- 
oughly frightened and were trembling. They 
seemed to actually fear that they were to be car- 
ried away to jail. But the sheik cared nothing 
for their appeals and jerked them around 
rudely, while the dragoman finally by gentler 
means succeeded in assuring them that we were 
merely Americans who had heard of their beau- 
tiful dancing, and had traveled thousands of 
miles to see them. 

The girls were ten and twelve years of age, 
respectively, and they rather boasted of the fact 
that they were married to the same man. When 
they danced, they said, he usually played the 
fife for them. So husband was brought out and 
introduced. He looked to be a boy of perhaps 
sixteen, and rather blushingly — if a brown boy 
can blush — admitted that he was the husband of 
the two wonderful dancers. His fife was sent 
for, also a couple of tom-tom players, and, at 
last, everything seemed to be ready. 

It was an event that El Mazata is likely to re- 



142 The Spell of Egypt 

member far some time to come, for fully two 
hundred men and women squatted around the 
palm trees in a sort of "public square" and 
watched the weird operations of the photogra- 
pher, who stood turning a crank on a little 
machine, the meaning of which nobody at- 
tempted to understand. The younger wives of 
the town, that is, those about sixteen years of 
age, came to a nearby knoll of sand, for the girls 
consented to dance in the open air, so that all 
of the townspeople, as well as ourselves, might 
see them. The sheik gave a signal and every- 
body squatted as the fife and tom-tom players 
took their places. We asked him to have the 
dance performed exactly as it is done at night 
in the desert, and after giving the order to the 
girls, he turned to us and remarked, *4t is 
well." 

The music, if it may be called music, started. 
It was wholly unlike any of that make-believe 
music of the Orient, to which we are accustomed 
in American exhibitions. It was shrill and had 
a marked rhythm, but these are about the only 
marks that could distingTiish it as music. It 
began slowly and dirge-like, as the girls stepped 
into the ring made by the audience, but grad- 
ually increased in tempo, as the girls struck 
their brass castanets, which were not unlike 



Miniature Cairos 143 



those which Spanish dancers strike between 
their thumbs and fingers as they whirl. They 
wore pounds of jewelry, which clanked and 
jingled. I observed that one girl wore a big 
bronze medal bearing the likeness of Franz 
Joseph of Austria, while the other's chief orna- 
ment was a big plate of brass that sounded like 
a camel bell when she stirred. 

Assuredly, these young ladies had not been 
'* spoiled" by America, and they had not heard 
of Cairo. Old Hassan of Menieh would have 
been delighted to know of their tactics — of the 
''preservation of the dance as it was in the days 
of the Pharaohs." 

At first it all seemed to be very tedious. 
The girls merely pranced around like young 
colts, occasionally whirling once or twice and 
then bowing close to the ground, either forward 
or backward. But in time it changed. Hus- 
band-piper screeched wildly and his tom-tom 
players began to beat their drums as if the crack 
of doom were approaching. The girls soon 
were whirling in a frenzy. Several of the na- 
tive girls, and some of the old women cigar 
smokers, who had doubtless been dancers in 
their day, but now no longer veiled their faces, 
were no longer able to restrain themselves. 
They arose from their squatting positions, at 



144 The Spell of Egypt 

first kept time slowly with their bodies, and then 
before they were aware of it, they, too, were 
whirling wildly and apparently doing their best 
to imitate the desert girls of tenderer years. 
After a time, it seemed that the entire popula- 
tion had begun to dance, for, although we did 
not know it beforehand, the Arabs cannot hear 
the music of the dance and remain unmoved. 
Verily, as Hassan had said. El Mazata was a 
village of dancers! It seemed that the dance 
lasted a half-hour, but then the young sheik 
raised his hand and shouted. Suddenly the 
music stopped, and forms that had been whirl- 
ing were limp upon the sand. The girls were 
exhausted and looked up panting, seemingly 
inquiring if their artistic efforts had been satis- 
factory to the strangers. And at this juncture 
the bashful young husband of sixteen became 
less bashful. He immediately sprang forward 
and the inevitable bargaining began. We had 
seen the show and now we must reward him 
handsomely. He was quite a *'man of the 
world," this young fellow, and quite a business 
man. He demanded almost the equivalent of 
an American dollar. We teased him for a time 
on account of the *' excessive" charges, but 
finally placed a dollar and a half in his palm, 
and he was so delighted that he would have re- 



Miniature Cairos 145 



peated the exhibition if we liad asked him to 
do so. 

After the sheik had clapped his hands and 
the black boy had served coffee again, the fun- 
niest event of the morning transpired. Two 
men riding camels had viewed the crowd in the 
sun from afar, and knowing that something un- 
usual was happening, they came running toward 
us as fast as their animals could travel. We 
waited for them, and, when they arrived, told 
them that we would take their pictures, if they 
would pose before the camera. This gave them 
a fright which a reader will scarcely appreciate, 
for ft is a well-known fact among the Arabs that 
when a camera clicks before a camel, the ani- 
mal's soul is killed, and it is likely to die at any 
moment thereafteA The men screamed as if 
threatened with death, and pulling out long- 
thonged lashes, they whipped their camels 
around and made for the desert again even 
faster than they had come when all eagerness to 
view the excitement. The young sheik grinned 
and continued to chatter of their cowardice and 
"ignorance" until we departed. 

As we reached the river-bank the policeman 
with the brass ring on his arm, our "protector," 
whom we had forgotten during our visit, after 
he had announced that he would look out for us, 



146 The SpeU of Egypt 

approached us and intimated that he would like 
some little souvenir of our visit. We gave him 
a shilling for his services and made him com- 
pletely happy. He had but one more request 
to make. Would we write him a ''character" 
that he could send to Cairo and perhaps thereby 
gain a promotion in the service, something that 
would show that he was always awake to duty! 
We would, and we did. If the "character" had 
the opposite effect when it reached the officials 
of Cairo we are not to blame, because we said 
that he had done his duty and remained in the 
background while the desert girls of El Mazata 
were performing for the American visitors. 




CHAPTEE VI 

MUMMIES AND HOLY MEN 

^EVEEAL years ago, wlieii Amelia Ed- 
wards wrote one of the best books written 
about the Nile and the swarms of people 
of all ages who have inhabited its banks, she 
stated it as an actual fact that the time had ex- 
isted when mummies were so plentiful and laws 
were so lax, that they had been ground up and 
shipped out of Egypt as fertilizer. But the 
laws are different nowadays. Mummies and 
antiquities of all sorts are carefully collected 
and shipped down to the museum of Cairo, 
which naturally contains the finest collection of 
things Egyptian in the world. It is unlawful 
to remove anything of the sort from the coun- 
try, and while tons of spurious stuff "made in 
Germany" is carted away annually by tourists, 
it seems to be pretty certain that nothing of 
Xalue is escaping the eyes of the watchful boys 
at the Egyptian ports of departure. And, any- 
way, it seems to the casual observer that the 
mummy supply of Egypt is about exhausted — 

147 



148 The Spell of Egypt 

or it seems so to him until he comes to Egypt. 
A large city in America has one mummy in its 
museum and considers it a precious possession. 
Some of the largest cities in the world have only 
a few specimens to show. The statement of 
Dr. Burch, a conscientious Egyptologist, that 
the time would probably never come when new 
tombs and mummies would not be found along 
the Nile, for instance, conveyed no particular 
meaning to me until our dahabiyeh reached the 
environs of Assiout. We know that people 
have been hunting for mummies here since long 
before the Christian era. Plundering temples 
and tombs seems to have been the principal oc- 
cupation of some of the early conquerors. 
Some of the scientists estimate that fully seven 
hundred and thirty-one million bodies were em- 
balmed in Egypt during the forty-five hundred 
years that the practice was followed ; and there 
has been such an abominable and sacrilegious 
traffic during the ages that one barely expects to 
see what might be called a ''new mummy" these 
later days. 

But reports reached us of new ''finds" up 
there in the cliffs beyond Assiout, and from the 
river we could see with our glasses clouds of 
dust and files of men walking up and down the 
mountainside, with baskets and big hampers on 



Mummies and Holy Men 149 



their heads. These men, who looked like flies 
in the distance, Josef told us, were convicts, 
who had been sent to clear away the rubbish 
from the newly discovered tombs. So we imme- 
diately asked to have our boat tied up to the 
river-bank, although it was not particularly 
welcome to us just then, because we had been 
prowhng off to various points in the desert for 
several days, for the purpose of making pic- 
tures, and we believed that we were again 
settled for several days of uninterrupted cruise 
on the Nile. But donkeys were engaged and 
we started up the long climb to where the clouds 
of dust, caused by the emptying of the convicts' 
baskets, shows us that there were operations in 
progress. 

Oh, it is a sad, sad thing to be a convict in 
Egypt ! At several points along the river and 
elsewhere, we had seen the state's prisoners per- 
forming the most arduous labour in the broiling 
sun that mows down human beings as if with a 
knife. One would not have believed that there 
were so many ''bad men" in the world. 
Swarms of them, bound by manacles, were en- 
gaged in road-building, dike-building, water- 
carrying and quarrying. Poor, bedraggled, 
half -naked creatures! We had often seen the 
overseer's lash come down upon their naked 



150 The Spell of Egypt 

backs, when he was not satisfied with their la- 
bour — or better still, when the mood for whip- 
ping seemed to be upon him. We had seen the 
poor crawling and cringing human beings 
creeping wearily along beneath their heavy bur- 
dens; but worse sights awaited us at the cliffs 
overlooking Assiout. All along the trail, from 
the top of the big pink mountain to the valley, 
guards were stationed with guns ready to shoot 
any man who attempted to escape. The prison- 
ers moving along with their baskets of debris, 
which was being deposited in a ravine, barely 
looked up as we passed. The Egyptian officials 
had heard of new tombs ; they wanted to know 
what was inside — so the convicts had been sent 
to do the excavating. 

It was a reminder of that older day when a 
king built his pyramid, temple or carved his 
tomb. He gave the word and tens of thousands 
of men were obliged to administer to the fulfil- 
ment of his commands. It seemed very like 
that day when the ruler desired something and 
because charity had not yet become a fashion, 
it was produced or accomplished, irrespective 
of the suffering or toll of life demanded. Eead 
in ancient writings of Photims and Diodorus 
Siculus of the hardships endured by the Egyp- 
tians who had royal task-masters and it will be 



Mummies and Holy Men 151 



possible to form a definite idea of what penal 
servitude was in that other day which created 
the artistic wonders at which the world has 
marveled for centuries. Their stories are sim- 
ilar to the weird tales that used to be afloat 
concerning convicts in Siberia. Slaves then 
worked under the lash and stick. Men, women 
and children were chained together and driven 
to work by soldiers who spoke a different 
language and were thus supposed to be deaf to 
their pleas for mercy. Another remnant of 
these ancient customs exists in the mind of the 
Egyptian of today. I He hates a whip or stick, 
and it is said that this hatred endures from the 
evil associations in his mind of that day when 
it fell upon his bare back, made him suffer and 
was the wand that indicated his menial position. 
Strike an Egyptian, even a fellah, with a whip 
and he bravely wants to defend himself from 
insult. Slap his face with your hand or indi- 
cate that you are about to strike him with your 
fist and he will run away like the veriest coward.^ 
We left our donkeys near the first square 
opening in the rock and continued our prowl 
around and upward by foot. And soon it 
seemed to us that Dr. Burch's computation of 
figures had been correct. It seemed that the 
seven hundred and thirty-one million mummies 



152 The Spell of Egypt 

of Egypt had been buried in the mountains be- 
hind Assiout — yet Josef, our dragoman, says 
that he climbed the mountain with other travel- 
ers less than six weeks ago and all was quiet 
here. 

There were a few well-known tombs whicH 
were usually visited by Nile tourists but now it 
had been found that the entire mountain was 
literally honeycombed with tombs and in some 
of the great caverns that had been hewn out of 
the solid rock, mummies were piled one upon the 
other, sometimes reaching the ceiling, so that 
there were ten or fifteen layers of them like 
fish in a tin can. And now they were lying out 
there, side by side, in the hot sun by the road- 
way. It was one of the most gruesome sights 
I have ever witnessed. The old men of a day 
when Egypt ruled the world, were being dis- 
turbed in their quiet retreats and rudely mauled 
and hauled around in the sun and dust, by their 
successors, these poor Egyptian convicts of the 
present. And the mummies were all awaiting 
shipment to Cairo. 

As I stood looking at the trail that was brown 
with mummy cloth, for the excavators put every- 
thing they find through a coarse sieve so that 
nothing of value may escape, and at the rows of 
proud men and women lying there in the sun, I 



Mummies and Holy Men 153 

remarked to a guard that I had always wanted a 
mummy ^s foot or hand for a paperweight. 

"Which would you rather have?" he asked 
rather indifferently. 

*'A hand," I replied; and, taking up a stone, 
he walked along the path and disappeared be- 
hind a big stone; and returning promptly, he 
passed a hand to me, smiling in ghoulish glee. 
He had performed the operation before, doubt- 
less so many times that he paid no attention to 
it — it meant no more than picking up a rock 
from the path. But I could not look for the 
face that I felt might give me a reproachful 
nod, so I wandered away from the others and 
sat down on a stone to rest in the shade. After 
I had been there some minutes, watching the 
endless chain of convicts filing up and down the 
hill, I received the fright of my life. At my 
side, easily within arm's reach, there was a 
small hole in the rock and protruding through 
this hole was the head of a brown man. He 
looked as if he were trying to escape before the 
excavators found him. In my fright for a mo- 
ment I thought I saw him move ; but realizing 
that this was merely a case of *' nerves" I 
leaned back and studied his features closely. 
Mummies usually look more or less alike, but 
this one was different. His face was that of 



154 The Spell of Egypt 

a patrician. His features were as noble as if 
they had been cast in bronze. The sneer, so 
frequently detected on these tightly closed lips, 
was not there. His face was all calmness, as 
if he were merely closing his eyes and about 
to speak. But I watched him closely for a long 
time and he did not move. He had been there 
for centuries, perhaps before Eome was born„ 
and the excavators above had merely detached 
the stones that made his hiding place. Per- 
haps I was the first to see him after his long 
sleep in the shade of the rock. At least, I liked 
to think so, and as I looked down in the valley, 
at the ancient city of Assiout, it suited my 
fancy to weave a little romance around his life ; 
and before I left him, I looked back at his calm 
expression and he seemed to tell me that I had 
not been too far from the truth. 

But I had been there longer than I suspected. 
Others had taken photographs of the convicts, 
the rows of mummies, the big boxes of porce- 
lain, stone and wooden images — and they sent 
out a guard to tell me that it was time to leave 
if we wanted to be back in town before sunset. 

"Better give that guard a shilling," sug- 
gested Josef, as we passed the official who had 
given me the hand, **he says he gave you a! 
souvenir." So I gave him his shilling and he 




•'• HOLY MAX ■' AT ASSIOUT. 



Mummies and Holy Men 155 

touched Ms forehead to thank me. For a shil- 
ling he had committed a legal misdemeanour 
and he had been guilty of a gross sacrilege, to 
which I felt that I had been at least an acces- 
sory before the crime. He had misunderstood 
my request — probably that was it. I wanted a 
hand that had become detached in the process 
of excavation; but he could see no use looking 
around for anything that could be obtained so 
easily. So I wrapped a handkerchief around 
the rather delicate fingers, and my donkey boy 
threw it in his knapsack as we began the de- 
scent of the mountain. We passed along by 
the files of convicts with chips of limestone and 
rubbish on their heads. The day was over, but 
their enforced labours were not at an end. A 
guard was lashing a young fellow who was vio- 
lently protesting that he did not deserve to be 
whipped. 

When we came back from the mountains, we 
saw our first ''holy man." Since that day we 
have seen several, enough of them so that it 
makes one believe that being ''holy" and naked 
is a rather profitable occupation in Egypt. It 
is difficult to see why there are not more of 
them, for what prevents the middle-aged man 
from suddenly deciding that he will henceforth 
become an object of veneration? It is a hard 



156 The Spell of Egypt 

life here, as life goes with most of the people, 
for most of them seem to be half-starved, over- 
worked and weary of the struggle for existence. 
They would rather squat in sunshine or in 
shadow than to be up and doing, even though 
the occupation provided a fairly good profit. 
They love to rest — and, after awhile, they fall 
asleep. All night they sleep, and preferably 
from eleven o'clock in the morning until three 
or four in the afternoon they sleep, unless an 
exacting task master stands over them with a 
lash. So why not become *'holy," sit in one 
place in the shade all day and all night and have 
a good rest? A string of beads is inexpensive, 
and passing it through one's fingers is not 
arduous labour. It seems highly preferable to 
carrying sand in a basket on one's head, prefer- 
able to running aU day behind a donkey and 
pounding it with a club — even to the precarious 
existence that comes from grinding the hard, 
sun-baked mud with an iron instrument, re- 
sembling a thick hoe. 

I have repeatedly asked our Mohammedan 
dragoman just what it is that makes one man 
holier than another, but he gives me no intelli- 
gent reply. He can cite plenty of instances in 
which, to his personal knowledge, these '' holier 
than thou" fellows have sat still for many 



Mummies and Holy Men 157 

years, barely budging from a couple of square 
yards of ground ; but these instances are not sat- 
isfactory answers to my questions. "Whether 
they are self-constituted holy men, or are en- 
couraged by others to enter the restful state, I 
cannot ascertain, but it seems to be plain that 
after they once obtain the reputation for '' holi- 
ness," their earthly troubles are over, and it 
seems to be the general opinion that their trou- 
bles are also over after death. 

The other day, when our dahabiyeh was ap- 
proaching one of the perpetual twists and turns 
in the Nile, I saw Josef collecting a small coin 
from every member of the crew. Some of the 
boys who draw wages amounting to fifteen or 
twenty cents a day were passing him two or 
three cents, and they smiled as they made the 
contribution. Naturally, I suspected it was for 
some "holy man," or some one who could bring 
them "luck," for I had seen the operation be- 
fore under slightly different circumstances. 
For these poor children — some of whom are big 
strapping fellows six feet tall — are always look- 
ing for ' ' luck. ' ' They hang various charms on 
strings around their necks to bring them ' * luck. ' ' 
Before they drink Nile water they throw some 
of it overboard to bring them "luck." The 
other day when we were near the big red granite 



158 The Spell of Egypt 

scarabseus of Amenophis III, that looks like a 
gigantic frog about to jump into the sacred lake, 
they all received permission to leave the boat 
for five minutes, so they could run across the 
fields from the river and touch it for '4uck." 
Convince them that the effort will bring them 
"luck," and they will try to lift a thousand 
pounds. Work for wages is work, but anything 
that somebody has said will bring "luck" sud- 
denly becomes a moral duty and a pleasure. 

Josef pointed to the little white tomb on the 
hill where we were about to arrive. "It is the 
tomb of a holy man," he said. It looked more 
like a whitewashed beehive, but, sure enough, 
it was the tomb of a sheik, exactly like so many 
others that dot the landscape throughout the 
length and breadth of Egypt. 

"Very holy, and sailors' friend," continued 
Josef. No sailor on the Nile likes to pass this 
place without giving something because prayers 
here bring him luck. 

And Josef saw no irony in this report of sail- 
ors ' luck, when he said : ' ' For fifty-three years 
the holy sheik Selim sat up there naked on the 
bank under a palm-tree and prayed for the sail- 
ors. He brought 'luck' to all the men working 
on the Nile." 

' ' Luck ! ' ' Selim prayed for fifty- three years, 



Mummies and Holy Men 159 

sat naked, ate only the food that was brought 
to him by pious Mohammedans and food and 
drink purchased from the voluntary contribu- 
tions of the sailors. And now that they are 
''lucky" as a result, they draw fifteen cents for 
about fourteen hours' work. But they seem to 
be satisfied, so probably the rest of us should 
be. Old Selim has passed to his fathers, but an 
old servant who waited upon him after he was 
too old to move, now lives in the beehive tomb 
and comes out to meet passing boats and col- 
lect the revenue. In return, he promises 
"luck." Many well-known men in Egypt have 
left their dahabiyehs for the purpose of meeting 
the old man, who preferred being ''holy" to 
working for a living. Even the Klhedive once 
spent two hours in conversation with him, and 
that seemed to settle the matter for all time to 
come. It was what we would term good pub- 
licity in America, for the old man became holier 
than ever as a result of the khedival patronage. 
More of these holy men are dead than alive — 
and their fame seems to grow after death. 
Their tombs are always on a hill-top, because it 
is easier to see them there and requires a little 
more physical exertion to make the pilgrimage. 
So we were pleased to pay our first visit to a 
real "holy man" at Assiout, a city that at least 



160 The Spell of Egypt 

since the fourth century a. d. has been a strong- 
hold of Christian as well as of Mohammedan 
fanatics, who abused their bodies, endured tor- 
tures and became objects of reverence to the 
average man. A little further down the river 
was one of these gentlemen who became so fa- 
mous in his day, and was visited by so many pil- 
grims, that regular camel routes were laid out 
to pass his resting-place, and he became so 
annoyed by his visitors that he was obliged to 
move farther into the desert. This proved that 
he was holier than at first believed, so the crowd 
followed him and contributed to his welfare un- 
til he passed on to the last rest and achieved a 
white beehive tomb. 

The specimen of "holy man" that we saw 
looked to be anything but *'holy," but even 
Josef, who says that he has ''been in America," 
whenever we remind him that he does not pray 
so often as the others on the boat, one of whom 
seems to be eternally stretching himself toward 
Mecca — even Josef, who is something of a Mo- 
hammedan backslider, could not pass near to 
this filthy, dust-covered black man, who lay on 
a few palm leaves in the hot sun without a stitch 
of clothing to protect him — stepped up and 
touched his hand, as he did so depositing a coin. 
He had paid his ''pilgrimage." The man 



Mummies and Holy Men 161 

grunted and rolled over in the sand when he re- 
ceived the contribution. Maybe he was pray- 
ing. At least Josef seemed to think so, for he 
stood several minutes and watched the writh- 
ings of a poor lunatic who, in Christian coun- 
tries, would have been in a padded cell. The 
man had scratched his finger-nails into his face 
and head. They had bled profusely and the 
blood clotted with lime dust had made big 
splotches over his countenance. This willing- 
ness to suffer had made him ''holy." People 
here would not think much of a clean man who 
called himself ''holy," and they would not be- 
lieve much in his prayers or that he could bring 
them "luck." 

But all of these things cannot be remedied in 
a day. At the festival of Hasan and Hosein in 
the larger towns of Egypt, even in Cairo, one is 
treated to the sight of the fanatics who march 
through the streets slashing themselves with 
knives and biting their arms and hands until 
they bleed. Perhaps these things are not 
"countenanced" by the authorities, and they are 
not even "popular" with the mass of the peo- 
ple, but the old idea of self-torture has a telling 
effect, and whoever is willing to behave in this 
manner, is quite likely to become "holy" in the 
eyes of his fellowmen. 



162 The SpeU of Egypt 

Up in tliose rocks behind Assiout, early Chris- 
tians found a retreat from oppression of Egyp- 
tian worshipers of strange gods. The city was 
the Lycopolis of the Greeks, and here John of 
Lycopolis was considered a prophet as well as a 
saint. But it was Christianity of a vague and 
almost pagan variety, only a little nearer to 
present forms than the worship of a hawkheaded 
god. The early Christians of upper Egypt 
denied the divinity of Christ, and some of their 
early forms of worship — still evident in the 
churches of the Copts and the Christians of 
Abyssinia — ^had so far degenerated as to have 
become practically the older and cruder religion 
that flourished in the land where temples of 
grandeur were erected to crocodiles. 

I have been particularly interested during 
wanderings in Egypt to observe the survival of 
any of the ancient beliefs and practices, in the 
beliefs and practices of the present, and I have 
found many of them existent. This starvation 
— holy-man-sit-still-in-the-shade practice seems 
to have a more ancient origin than any of the 
others, for the most ancient Egyptians wor- 
shiped Nut, the goddess of the sky, and although 
it sounds slangy, and very modern American 
slang at that, there seems to be a good deal of 
Nut-worship in Egypt today. It is likely that 



Mummies and Holy Men 163 

the meaning of the word — like everything else in 
Egypt, excepting the ancient monuments of 
granite and stone — ^has degenerated in our time, 
but even the modern acceptance of the word re- 
mains. The average, sane and ordinary human 
being attracts no attention whatever, but let him 
starve, decline to drink water, become lean and 
filthy, cut his limbs and face, lacerate or ampu- 
tate his arms, and he is immediately declared to 
be "holy.*' Immediately, the poor and rich be- 
gin to contribute to his bee-hive tomb, and he is 
assured of what corresponds to ''immortality" 
— or, at least, a fame of which we know nothing. 




CHAPTEE VII 

OlSr AN" EGYPTIAN FARM 

JE wanted to visit an Egyptian farm, not 
one of those patches of mud over which 
water is poured by the fellaheen, but a 
genuine farm in the American sense of the word 
— if such a thing existed. Herodotus called 
Egypt *Hhe gift of the Nile," and the definition 
seems to become more appropriate as time 
passes, for beyond the banks of the river in most 
places the Arabian and Libyan deserts stretch 
away for so many miles that the casual observer 
and traveler cannot fail to believe that this bar- 
ren distance which he constantly sees before 
him, with the exception of a few oases, where 
date palms flourish, is the agricultural extent of 
Egypt, south of the fertile delta. 

But several times during our visit we have 
heard the names of rich farmers, although in- 
vestigation proved the riches of some of them 
to consist chiefly of a camel or two and a few 
donkeys. But we knew that many of them have 

164 



On an Egyptian Farm 165 



beautiful homes in the cities, sometimes main- 
taining establishments in Cairo, Assuan and 
Luxor, and this seemed to be proof of the fact 
that there must be such a thing as a prosperous 
farmer in this land where in Bible times people 
all seemed to turn when there was famine in 
their own lands. So we were enthusiastic when 
our dragoman told us that he had received an 
invitation for us to visit a rich gentleman- 
farmer, upon whose carte de visite appears the 
name of Abd-el Karin M. Bey Elammary. 
Josef was asked to bring the American gentle- 
man to his farm to spend an afternoon, and 
Josef felt the honour more than we did at the 
time, being particularly pleased when he sent 
back word by a running Ethiopian that we would 
arrive about four o 'clock. 

Quietly Josef informed me that we were about 
to become the guests of one of the richest farm- 
ers in all Egypt, and before our arrival he 
dropped enough incidental information about 
his Bey Elammary to arouse my curiosity, for in 
addition to being rich — perhaps millions of dol- 
lars — ^he was a very good man, said Josef, one 
who prayed all day long and constantly kept re- 
peating the names of God and counting the beads 
of his Mohammedan rosary, no matter who was 
calling upon him or whatever distracting things 



166 The Spell of Egypt 

of earth endeavoured to wrest Ms attention from 
the prophet and paradise. And although Josef 
has not become so ''modern" by contact with his 
Western clients that he cannot exaggerate with 
genuine Oriental adjectives and adverbs, we 
found that he had not overstated his case in 
regard to the farmer. Here, indeed, was a 
*'farm" in the midst of the desert — ^here a 
grand old chap who plays the role of patriarch 
in such elegant fashion that we were astounded 
by what we saw, amused by the antiquity of it 
all, and delighted at the privilege of being the 
guests of one who seemed to be held in such pro- 
found awe and respect by the people around 
him. I could never find out whether it was his 
money or his goodness that commanded this re- 
spect; but perhaps it made no difference, the 
respect was there, and the old man doubtless 
knew that it was his goodness. It was a little 
after four o'clock in the afternoon when we ar- 
rived at great wheat fields, all irrigated by deep 
ditches that were fed from deeper wells, at every 
one of which a pair of oxen was turning a sakieh 
and raising big earthen buckets of water to a 
trough that conveyed it to the ditches and thence 
to the canals. As far away as we could see in 
the fields of ripening grain, these oxen-driven 
*' pumps" were revolving in a ceaseless en- 



On an Egyptian Farm 167 

deavour to keep the land from baking and the 
grain from roasting on the ear. 

"We are arriving at Elammary," said Josef; 
*'he owns the entire village and this is the be- 
ginning of his farm." 

We passed a large mud village set among 
palms. "This is where his farm helpers live," 
added the dragoman. ' ' Six hundred of them — 
and off yonder is his residence." He pointed 
toward the west to a big fortress-like pile of mud 
and sunbaked brick that had been whitewashed 
and gave it the appearance of being a big flat 
loaf of sugar. But it was imposing and seemed 
to be cool — set off there among the palms and 
mimosas. Immediately we arrived, a troupe of 
turbaned black boys from the Sudan and Abys- 
sinia ran out to take charge of our animals and 
we were escorted into the courtyard of the big 
residence, where it seemed that the great farmer 
was holding court. He sat squatting on a couch, 
dressed in European clothes and wearing a red 
tarboosh on his head. In his hand was a big 
string of amber beads, which gradually passed 
between his thumb and index finger — and just 
as Josef had said, did not discontinue to pass, 
even when he appeared to be in animated conver- 
sation with us. One by one, we were taken up 
and presented, and he quite condescendingly 



168 The Spell of Egypt 

shook us by the hands, although we observed 
that Josef and all the others who addressed him, 
genuflected and kissed his hand as he extended 
it. Even his sons and brothers who were called 
in to be presented to us, prostrated themselves 
before him before we were recognized. 

**I am very happy to receive American 
visitors," he said, Josef acting as interpreter. 
''Once General Harrison, from America, came 
to call upon me, and we wrote many letters in 
after years. ' ' 

We were told to sit down on any one of six 
or seven big sofas over which Turkish rugs were 
spread. The sofas were set in the sand of the 
courtyard and rough matting was spread before 
each one for our feet to rest upon. As quickly 
as we were seated, about eight men, bearing 
goat-skins filled with cold water from the wells, 
entered and began to drench the ground around 
us so that it became sticky mud, but we were up 
high and dry, safe from danger; and, assuredly, 
the water had the desired effect — it cooled the 
air. After this operation, and as Elammary 
continued to chat with us, his servants began to 
bring us things to eat and things to drink. "We 
had strange concoctions that were cooling and 
we had things that were red hot, all of which 
our host consumed with equal relish. Each 



On an Egyptian Farm 169 

servant, entering the courtyard, went directly to 
him, held the tray before him and knelt as he 
helped himself — before passing the tray to us. 
We stayed a little over two hours and during 
that time there was a constant round of refresh- 
ments, ending with sage tea and sweet Egyptian 
brown bread, which we soaked in the tea before 
we were able to get our teeth into it. 

In relays, as we could stand the heat, we went 
out on the farm, observed things and took pic- 
tures. One large field was given over to thresh- 
ing, where camels and oxen were going around 
in small circles treading out the grain. Men 
with large wooden forks were winnowing it and 
other men were packing it in sacks on the backs 
of camels to be carried to the storehouse. From 
a lofty knoll near the house I observed the work- 
ings of the farm, and, as far as I could see, there 
were camels, donkeys, oxen, water buffalo, all 
revolving in circles, performing the primitive 
tasks and adding to the fortune of the farmer. 
I expressed delight when I saw so many large 
camels at work and Elammary replied that he 
had over one hundred of them. Josef laughed 
as he heard an order in Arabic to one of the 
thirty or forty servants who stood around to do 
the master's bidding. In a short time I realized 
why he had laughed, for black boys came into 



17a The Spell of Egypt 

the courtyard leading five of the largest camels 
that ever lived. They were turned loose, and 
the big things lay down in the wet dirt of the 
yard and rolled like kittens, while the farmer 
laughed at their antics. They performed even 
better than he had hoped for. 

After taking pictures of the threshing and 
winnowing operations we observed that much 
of the grain was lost and asked the farmer if 
it would not be more economical to install a 
threshing machine. 

**I have no fuel," he replied. *' There is no 
wood and men are cheaper here than coal. And, 
besides, I have ten thousand pigeons to pick up 
the grain that is lost. What they miss the goats 
or cows find — ^very little is lost, I assure you." 

Elammary has a family of forty, which, 
coupled with at least fifty household servants 
and six hundred labourers, makes a group that 
must entail considerable responsibility. But he 
never finds his duties so pressing that he must 
lay down the amber rosary and stop praying for 
a single minute. A Mohammedan friend came 
to call upon him while we were there and, al- 
though he looked as pompous and prosperous as 
the bey himself, dressed in European clothes and 
surrounded by a crowd of servants, he went up 
to the millionaire farmer and bowed deeply as 



On an Egyptian Farm 171 

he pressed his lips to the extended hand. They 
chatted a few minutes and both counted their 
beads as they did so, proving that of far greater 
importance than their earthly affairs was the 
spectacular preparation for the life hereafter. 

Elammary conducted us personally over a 
part of his farm, and he seemed to take much 
interest in the operation of the camera. We 
took pictures of him before we left, and he nerv- 
ously prayed faster than usual as he sat or stood 
before the camera. He showed us his private 
mosque, and said that he had all of his men and 
servants come with him to prayer on Friday — : 
but other times he asked them to pray where 
they were in the fields, for the five daily prayers 
in the mosque might seriously interfere with 
their work. Then the gentleman-farmer walked 
back to the courtyard with us, where our animals 
were brought for departure, and, after a hearty 
handshake, he told us that he hoped we would 
come again, and, as we looked back, we saw the 
old fellow's bronze face and bronze hand waving 
to us a farewell. And his amber beads sparkled 
in the sunshine as they rippled through the 
fingers of his other hand. 

I took out the card that he had handed to us 
when we departed and somehow I felt that the 
old man had given his name an European spell- 



172 The Spell of Egypt 

ing, just as he has given so many modern twists 
to other things, although he protested that he is 
satisfied with ancient practices and has no desire 
to adopt any of the practices of modern tillers of 
the soil, doubtless reasoning as did Wu Ting 
Fang, when he was asked why the Chinese 
people did not try to become more modem. 
''We tried most of these new-fangled things a 
thousand years ago," replied Wu, "and we 
came to the conclusion that they didn't pay." 
Hear an Egyptian pronounce the bey's name, 
however, and then hear him pronounce the name 
of that splendid old adventurer, Abderrahman 
el-Omary, whose exploits are so fully set forth 
in Quatremere's translations from Arabic his- 
torians, and it seems to be the same. Only, a 
brief outline of the earlier el-Omary 's opera- 
tions in Egypt makes the romantic traveler 
hope that he has talked with his worthy descend- 
ant when he has chatted with this patriarch 
with one hundred camels and six hundred farm 
labourers. 

The older bearer of the name lived in the early 
part of the ninth century. He is said to have 
been the great-great-grandson of the Calif 
Omar, so his ancestry was among the most illus- 
trious in Islam, After receiving his education 
at Mecca, he went to Cairo, where he heard for 



On an Egyptian Farm 173 

the first time about tlie deserted gold mines in 
the Arabian desert near the Eed Sea, whence the 
Pharaohs of Egypt are generally believed to 
have derived fabulous wealth. When he 
reached Cairo, Toulon was ruling the country, 
for the sultans of Bagdad, and el-Omary had to 
use great caution when he started out to re- 
locate the mines, giving out word that he would 
conduct extensive trading operations in Upper 
Egypt and Nubia, 

El-Omary found the mines, and his endeavour 
to open communication with the river brought 
him into continual conflict with the little king- 
doms that preferred Christianity and dwelt near 
the junction of the Blue and White Niles. 

It is all a tale of ruthless slaughter, this record 
of el-Omary 's mining operations, but he con- 
tinued to hold what he had set out to hold, and 
re-opened mine after mine until his slaves were 
so numerous that sixty thousand camels were 
employed to convey provisions for them from 
the Nile country. He also bought com and 
other provisions from Egypt in such quantity 
that Toulon put a veto on further shipment, but 
removed it when he found that his action would 
bring him into battle with the Gold King of the 
East and one hundred thousand picked war- 
riors. 



174 The Spell of Egypt 

El-Omary was killed while in the height of his 
power, but his name rings with all of the magical 
romance of the East ; and recalling the events in 
his career, one thinks again of the puny present 
as compared to those richer and fuller days 
through which Egypt has passed. Elammary, 
bey, owns a hundred camels and broad acres and 
men cower before him because he is counted rich 
and powerful. But what is he by comparison to 
that earlier bearer of the name who counted his 
camels by tens of thousands and commanded a 
hundred thousand picked warriors and made the 
King of Egypt afraid ! 

And this visit served to call attention again 
to those mines in the desert near the Red Sea 
which have a charm for the curious, like reports 
of fountains of perpetual youth and pirates' 
treasure. 

After el-Omary's death the source of his vast 
wealth seems to have been forgotten again, just 
as it had been forgotten for centuries since those 
builders of temples and tombs. It is unbeliev- 
able that the wealth and splendour of ancient 
Egypt owed its origin to the fertility of the 
narrow strip of land along the river bank or to 
the lowlands of the delta. It has been argued 
that Egypt itself might have populated its cities 
as a result of agriculture, but this scarcely 



On an Egyptian Farm 175 



seems to have been probable or possible above 
the First Cataract, yet there are ruins there 
which prove that it was once the home of a popu- 
lous nation, whose architecture and national life 
seem to have been chiefly a reflection of what 
was transpiring farther down the Nile. Thus 
it is likely that the former prosperity of Nubia 
was due solely to the mines in the desert. 

In that earlier day, there was little or no trade 
by way of the Eed Sea, although the mines were 
located nearer to it than to the river, so the great 
route lay through the land that owed its pros- 
perity to that and no other cause. When the 
sea route was opened, doubtless Nubia fell back 
into much of its present state. Probably the 
mines were worked from the dawn of history, 
just as Egyptian kings extracted great wealth 
from mines in the Sinai peninsula; although it is 
thought that many of the accounts of sapphire- 
mining in the latter district have been greatly 
overestimated. One thing is certain, however, 
ancient rulers of Egypt made the mines pay a 
heavy toll for their coffers, absolute proof being 
available that wealth from the desert country 
near the sea poured into Egypt from about 2500 
B. c. and for three thousand years. One reader 
of hieroglyphics has interpreted them to mean 
that gold valued at $350,000,000 was extracted 



176 The Spell of Egypt 

from Nubian mines. Many descriptions of the 
mines, their vast wealth, the hundreds of thou- 
sands of labourers, their methods of living and 
working have come down to us. In some of the 
rocky hills of the district there are numerous 
caves bearing inscriptions that indicate they 
were the identical homes of the slaves so em- 
ployed. It is said, however, that during the fifth 
century, the mines were deserted. So, for about 
four centuries, the very existence of the treasure 
locked in the hills was forgotten. Now and 
again since el-Omary's brilliant exploits, there 
have arisen men who attempted to duplicate his 
career. There is no reason to believe that the 
mines have become exhausted, no proof that the 
precious metal does not still lurk somewhere in 
the region. But it, like too much of Egypt, 
seems to be a sealed book. One cannot say for 
certain what yet awaits the seeker after gold in 
this golden land. 

The ancient Egyptian word for gold was 
"nub" and whether the land received its name 
from the golden sand or because of the fact that 
ancient Egypt drew gold from the Nubian hills, 
is still a question over which the scientists and 
specialists quarrel. It is the land of Gush of 
the Bible, probably giving rise to our modern 
slang use of the word, meaning gold or money, 



On an Egyptian Farm 177 

and Nubia seems always to have been the land 
of slaves, although the negroes in America had 
their origin from lands farther south. The 
men of Nubia have almost Caucasian faces that 
are black and shining, while their heads are 
covered with black hair that is straight and has 
not the slightest suggestion of kink or curl. But 
from the earliest times. Nubia seemed to pro- 
vide the slaves for men of lighter complexion. 
One Egyptian king, who lived over five thousand 
years ago, records that in a single expedition 
into Nubia he captured over seven thousand 
slaves for his kingdom. The land always seems 
to have been the natural prey of the white and 
yellow men, and while about the time of Christ, 
after Nubia had received the advantages of 
Egyptian civilization for two thousand years 
and was able to organize expeditions of its own 
against its enemies, and even had its independ- 
ent kingdom, the grasping hand from the north 
was too strong. 'Etgjipt, then Greece and Eome, 
and other conquering nations, swept over the 
land on the way to the Sudan, and Nubia again 
became a country of slaves. And thus it re- 
mains today, although the nations nominally 
permit no such thing as slavery. But the 
Nubian seems to be a natural servant and he 
does not seem to be unhappy in service. He 



178 The SpeU of Egypt 

may be trusted and he is fairly industrious. 
People in Africa prefer Nubians above other 
blacks in their households, thus the Nile boats 
abound with them and the houses of the Egyp- 
tians seem to swarm with them. They earn a 
small sum of money, save it, and then return to 
their native land where living is cheap. In these 
northern lands of Africa, where all the races of 
earth seem to be fusing themselves into tan- 
coloured mixture that cannot be identified, the 
Nubians remain untainted and they are easily 
distinguished from all other black men of the 
dark continent. 

One passes from Egypt into Nubia so gently, 
and physical things have been so gradually pre- 
paring themselves for the geographical change, 
that it takes the word of a dragoman to convince 
the traveler that he has reached the ^'golden 
land of Africa" and has in reality passed 'Hhe 
great divide" which separates the yellow men 
from the blacks. 

The principal difference observed in the land- 
scape is that the long mountains that have 
closely hugged the bank of the Nile for many 
miles, sometimes coming sheer to the water's 
edge on the eastern side and giving the impres- 
sion that one is cruising along Norwegian fiords 
instead of the fancied trip upon the Nile, now 



On an Egyptian Farm 179 



recede farther into the distance. The sands of 
the desert, which grew pale and gray in the 
normal light of day back in Egypt, just beyond 
the narrow strip of brown that is watered by the 
Nile, now become a golden or daffodil yellow. 
In the evening, just after sunset, they glow 
like great prairies of gold leaf; in the early 
morning, like great sheets of burnished brass. 




CHAPTER. VIII 

STEANGE CUSTOMS AND STEANGEKS 

JNE morning we asked tlie reis to stop the 
dahabiyeh soon after we came on deck. 
We wanted a closer view of a scene that 
was taking place at the ridge of land at our right 
hand. A procession was filing along toward a 
dahabiyeh near the shore — there was weird and 
uncanny chanting, and something that was being 
carried on the shoulders of four men indicated 
that it was a funeral, for, like their ancient con- 
querors, these people prefer to bury their dead 
' ' on the other side of the river. ' ' The climate is 
almost unbelievably hot — ^yesterday it regis- 
tered 108 degrees in the shade — and the under- 
taking arrangements are nil, so that after a per- 
son dies, there is a speedy despatch to the tomb, 
often prepared before death. Usually about 
four hours elapses between death and burial. 
The Oriental thinks much of his tomb, and he can 
pay no greater compliment to the deceased than 
to offer the use of his '4ast resting-place" to 
other men. The rich, who have a tomb, often 

180 



strange Customs and Strangers 181 



permit men who have none to rest with them, as 
the wealthy merchant Joseph of Arimathea 
offered his tomb for the body of Jesus Christ. 
The custom is rigidly retained by Moham- 
medans — and Islam spreads its tentacles as far 
south as the wild men of Africa. 

The corpse was wrapped in a rough winding 
sheet and laid upon a board with a pointed and 
gaudily painted slab of wood in front. Usually 
a gaudy cashmere shawl is used for this purpose 
in the cities. The body was carried along jaun- 
tily, by friends of the deceased, and the long 
funeral procession seemed to be having a diffi- 
cult time of it in keeping up the pace. Directly 
behind the dead man, who was apparently a per- 
son of some importance in the world of yellow 
sands, came a troupe of wailing women. Josef 
says that the very good ones in the cities receive 
about a shilling for their services — and nobody 
ever worked harder for her money. These 
whom I saw deserve more, but probably receive 
less. Every one of them was an emotional ac- 
tress. Perhaps she knew the deceased, perhaps 
not; but if her grief could be measured by the 
noise she made, she was indeed sadly stricken. 
As they approached the boat, where the body 
was deposited on deck for the ferry ride across 
the river, the women knelt in the wet sand, and 



182 The Spell of Egypt 

continued to raise their voices in lamentations. 
Then another woman came struggling forward, 
threw herself prostrate in the mud, and taking 
up big handfuls of wet earth, she smeared it on 
her face and arms as she moaned and screamed. 

"Doubtless the mother or sister of the dead 
man," said Josef; ''she show how badly she 
feel." 

But the others seemed to pay no attention to 
her as they took their places in the boat, and the 
mourner continued to shout and flounder in the 
mud. After the others were ready to go, she 
jumped aboard the boat and flung herself into a 
muddy and bedraggled heap on deck. 

"Suppose he was a single man?" I asked 
Josef, never able to curb my questionings in this 
matter of plural marriage, and he smiled. 

"There are no single men in Egypt — ^I have 
told you — and no old maids, ' ' he replied ; ' ' they 
come from England and America. Look by the 
corpse." 

I looked and there observed for the first time 
three big heaps of black rags. Inside each pile 
was a heavily veiled wife. But they were silent. 
Perhaps they were panting for breath beneath 
so much covering, or perhaps they were weeping 
for the departed, but it was plain that they were 
taking things fairly easy, while the paid mourn- 



strange Customs and Strangers 183 



ers were doing the ''work." The wailing con- 
tinued even after the women saw us and our 
boat and became so distracted from their job 
as they watched us that it seemed they might not 
be doing it justice. A light wind filled the sail 
and the boat went away with its load across the 
river. 

Another Mohammedan was soon to be visited 
by the angels Munkar and Nakir, who examine 
the dead shortly after they are placed in their 
graves. They command the corpse to sit up- 
right and question him as to his faith. If his 
answers are satisfactory, they either permit him 
to rest in peace until the great day of judgment, 
or they take him with them to Paradise imme- 
diately ; but if they are not pleased, the prophet 
taught that they beat him on the temples with 
iron maces, and after they have heaped earth on 
his body it is gnawed at by ninety-nine dragons, 
each of which has seven heads. Mohammedan 
graves are provided with two stones for the 
angels to sit upon during this examination, much 
as an attempt is made to make an earthly judge 
comfortable in his court-room. 

If the angels take the dead directly to Para- 
dise he will immediately be given as companions, 
women of pure musk who never grow old and 
who live in pearls sixty miles long and sixty 



184 The Spell of Egypt 

miles wide. Also it is consoling to know that 
good Mohammedans are one hundred and ten 
feet in height in Paradise and that they re- 
main always not unlike a youth of about thirty 
years. * 

' As we sat on deck and photographed the first 
Nubian ''custom" that had caught our eyes, we 
also observed that near our boat's bow four 
big white cranes were combining business with 
pleasure. They were fishing from a sandbar, to 
which we had come perilously near, and they 
were watching the funeral party and ourselves. 

\ Birds do not seem to be afraid of human beings 
in Nubia and other Mohammedan countries. 
''Thou shalt not kill" applies to mosquitoes as 
well as to men, and the birds seem to appreciate 
the prophet's protecting command. Even in 

i the lofty temples dedicated to ancient gods they 
build their nests and soar about the galleries un- 
molested, while the vast corridors early in the 
morning echo their merry chirpings. Usually a 
flock of swallows, or even wide-winged buzzards, 
seem to be incongruous in these holy places, 
quite as much so as the thousands of bats that 
cling to the gaudy frescoes and decorations ; but 
once I saw birds in a temple where they ap- 
peared to belong. 

This day which had begun auspiciously for a 



strange Customs and Strangers 185 

traveler, also held another joy in store for us 
before the sun had climbed very high over the 
eastern hills. We were destined to become the 
guests of the strangest human beings I have ever 
seen, or if not that, at least men who seem to 
have drifted farther away from their natural 
condition than any others who have passed 
under my observation. 

The first time I saw one of the species was 
near Shellal, at a desert market, where men 
came to exchange palm fiber for beans, camel 
hair for straw matting — and everything for 
Turkish coffee. As a couple of Bishareen gen- 
tlemen passed I pinched myself to see if I was 
really awake. They were the most amazing 
human creatures — even in this country, where 
the rural population has gone back to almost its 
wild state. Here were men who seemed to com- 
bine ancient Greek with modern savage. They 
carried long sticks, and swept along through the 
market with swagger strides that one might ex- 
pect from a London sport, but the Bond-St. de- 
cadence was lacking. Their shoulders were 
thrown back and they held their heads erect. 
They were barefoot, but in a country where nine 
people out of ten are barefoot this is not a dis- 
tinguishing mark, and even the motley crowd of 
Soudanese, Egyptians, Nubians and Abyssinians 



186 The Spell of Egypt 

turned to gaze at the Bisliareen as they passed 
along. 

They might have been gentlemen of the age 
of Pericles in Athens. But no, as they came 
nearer I observed that the garments which hung 
in graceful folds from their shoulders — in a 
manner that the Edwin Booths, Mansfields and 
Irvings have tried to copy when appearing in 
Eoman or Grecian tragedies on the stage — were 
merely long strips of once-white cloth that had 
been flapped along in the yellow sands for too 
many weeks to have retained its whiteness. 
They were filthy, these garments, but they hung 
from the shoulders in folds and curves that mas- 
ters of wardrobes have vainly sought to repro- 
duce on the stage. 

But if there was about the Bishareen the un- 
mistakable evidence of Greek or Roman influ- 
ence, there likewise remained in them much of 
the jungle and cave man. Perhaps the most dis- 
tinguishing characteristic of this sort was their 
hair. The Bishareen boy's hair is never cut, and 
by the time he reaches young manhood it stands 
out in a woolly mass from four to six inches in 
length. Through it he thrusts a long white 
bone, and he daubs quantities of white grease in 
his hair — ^the more grease, the more beauty from 
his point of view and in the eyes of his fellow- 



strange Customs and Strangers 187 

men, so that sometimes chunks of lard-like stuff 
nearly an inch in diameter are smeared over his 
head, until it looks as if he had ruhbed his wool 
with soapsuds — ^until the sun melts it, and then 
he loses his beautiful coiffure. The grease drips 
to his shoulders and smears the already dirty 
garments draped around his shoulders. On 
close inspection, a Bishareen looks as if he had 
stepped out of a vat of grease; on seeing him 
at a distance, one thinks that he is an ancient 
Athenian. Such men were too picturesque to be 
overlooked by the lecturer or movie, so the 
dragoman was instructed to take us to their 
homes. 

''But they live far in the desert near the Eed 
Sea," said Josef at the time. 

''Nevertheless, be on the lookout for any of 
their camps, ' ^ we cautioned ; "you say they come 
across the desert to sell henna leaves to the 
natives for dyeing their finger-nails. Perhaps 
you can strike one of these bartering places." 
This may have seemed like rather hopeless in- 
structions, but we had already some experience, 
and the stranger has no idea how rapidly news 
travels in Egypt. As in the days before the 
telegraph, "talk" flashes up the river and into 
the desert almost as if it were carried on wires. 
At first we marveled at it. Probably ours is the 



188 The Spell of Egypt 

fastest dahabiyeh on the river, yet when we ar- 
rive at rather obscure villages, not reached by 
telegraph wires, the natives are there squatting 
on the bank awaiting our coming. They have 
heard all about the ''white man who takes pic- 
tures," and gives baksheesh to his posers, so 
they too are hoping to add a little extra change 
to the week's earnings. They tell us how much 
we gave for taking pictures at other towns, 
perhaps some distance away, and they think 
they understand what is expected from them 
and strike ''graceful" attitudes, so that we 
may select from among the crowds as star 
actors. 

In a little desert village I gave a native spinner 
a shilling for his crude professional implements, 
and when I arrived at another village fully fifty 
miles away and offered half that amount for the 
same thing, I was told the price that I had paid 
at El Mazata. It is difficult to account for it, but 
this "wireless" telephone system works with re- 
markable speed and accuracy in Nubia and per- 
haps this explains why every one seems to be 
forever talking. Probably they are communi- 
cating the news. 

So we were not surprised when Josef told us 
one morning that he had arranged with the head 
man of a crowd of fifty or so Bishareen to enter- 



strange Customs and Strangers 189 



tain us in their ''homes" about six miles distant 
from the river in the Arabian desert. In fact, 
Josef told us that the sheik was lavish in his 
invitations, and after he gave him a ''present" 
that amounted to about three dollars in Ameri- 
can money, the chief swore that we were his 
dearest friends and that we would remain so un- 
til the end of time — or words to that effect. He 
would act as our personal guide during the visit 
and command his people to do whatever we 
wanted them to do. They would sing, dance or 
fight — all for our pleasure. And just inciden- 
tally I would advise all future visitors to Bisha- 
reen camps to follow our example and make ar- 
rangements with the chief. It is necessary to 
"satisfy" these head men sooner or latere — : 
they must have money. Make any arrange- 
ments you will with the others and the chief is 
disgruntled and places obstacles in the way until 
he feels coin in his own hand. And for that mat- 
ter, we found much the same condition existing 
in Egyptian villages farther down the Nile. 
Have the chief on your side and he slaps the 
others on the face and tells them what to do. 
When a man offers you a knife or spear for four 
shillings, and you offer him two, the chief struts 
forward, grabs the article from its owner's 
hands £ind puts it in yours, depositing in the 



190 The Spell of Egypt 

black man's hand the price that you have of- 
fered. 

We rode to the camp on camels which the sheik 
had sent for us. As our dahabiyeh was being 
tied to the bank I saw those disdainful and 
haughty animals coming across the desert, each 
ridden by a Bishareen youngster who led it after 
we had taken our places on the waving and toss- 
ing monsters which seem never to give one the 
slightest suggestion of the direction in which 
they expect to jerk the rider. The ' ' camp ' ' was 
unlike any that we had previously visited and 
seemed to be as extraordinary as the Bishareen 
themselves. Of course the "tents" were in the 
roasting sun, upon sand upon which rain has not 
fallen within the memory of man. The dwell- 
ings were of pieces of rough matting, unevenly 
woven from reeds and cane and raised no more 
than a yard from the ground on tamarisk sticks 
and held down at the sides by heavy rocks. The 
sheik's tent — the finest of perhaps thirty or 
forty, was no higher than the others, but it was 
decorated by several large sheets of tin, flat- 
tened out from Standard Oil cans, and these 
glistened in the sun and gave the place almost a 
look of importance amid the squalid surround- 
ings. 

All of the Bishareen were out to greet us. 



strange Customs and Strangers 191 

smeared with fresh grease. Apparently the 
sheik had suggested to them that they would be 
well paid for their services — ^perhaps a shilling 
apiece, if they posed for the movies, although, 
of course, they had not the slightest idea of 
what motion pictures were and only blindly pre- 
tended to understand. They were smiling — 
even grinning — as they stood around their tents 
and observed us awkwardly endeavouring to re- 
tain our places on camels' backs when the crea- 
tures were being made to kneel for the dismount- 
ing of the visitors. And afterwards, we recalled 
that the camels were quickly led away. Perhaps 
they had twenty animals, and here was the only 
real trouble that we had with the Bishareen. 
None of them would pose with a camel and no 
owner of a camel would give his permission to 
have a camel photographed, although they did 
not seem to care if the animals were in the back- 
ground of pictures. 

"They think the camera kills the soul of the 
camel," interpreted Josef, after the sheik had 
made a lengthy explanation. 

''But surely the sheik does not think so," we 
replied, endeavouring to flatter the ruler of the 
community. He assured us that he believed no 
such thing, but he quickly despatched all camels 
to a distance that he considered beyond the 



192 The Spell of Egypt 

range of the lens. This was at least his 
''whim," so we accommodated ourselves to it. 
But the Bishareen danced for us and they sang 
for us! They even fought for us. Once or 
twice the mock fight grew so warm and realistic 
that the sheik was obliged to yell at three young 
bucks to be more gentle with their antagonists. 

And we saw only the males. I asked the sheik 
if they carried no women with them on their 
travels in the desert and without ceremony he 
stepped up to a tent, raised the matting and dis- 
closed a really beautiful Bishareen girl of per- 
haps twenty years, who looked out and smiled 
playfully. She was squatting on a rug in her 
''room" that was not more than two yards 
square and she was laden with cheap jewelry 
and tattooed. Her hair was plaited in perhaps 
fifty little "pigtails" not larger than a lead 
pencil, every one of which looked as if it had 
been dipped in a can of grease. 

Perhaps we spent two hours among the Bisha- 
reen and met with nothing but kindly hospitality, 
although they have a "record" and are popu- 
larly known as the "bad boys of the desert." 
They, like the fellaheen, claim to be the descend- 
ants of the ancient Egyptians, and say that 
rather than submit tamely to their conquerors 
they fled to the desert centuries ago, and certain 




BISHAREEN GIRLS. 



strange Customs and Strangers 193 

it is that they seem to have taken Eoman or 
Grecian customs and manner with them. As 
we were starting away I looked toward the tent 
that the sheik had lifted for our inspection. 
Perhaps it was not good Bishareen manners — ' 
for these men keep their women secluded much 
as their Mohammedan brothers do — ^but the 
twenty-year-old girl, who was probably the 
mother of a large family, seemed to be expecting 
this and she raised the matting and waved her 
hand at me. 




CHAPTER IX 

GODS OF LOVE AND HATE 

^FTER one lias seen the various temples of 
Egypt that are scattered along the Nile 
from Denderah to Wady-Halfa at the 
Second Cataract, there is a feeling of gratitude 
that the first one visited on the upward journey 
was not the best nor the worst of the collection. 
It is not the most fully excavated, best pre- 
served, awe-inspiring or the most beautiful. 
But it is majestic preparation for the joys to 
come. Here, as if the ancients themselves had 
planned it, as they planned so many incredible 
things, is the glorious pile erected to the goddess 
of Love. Probably the first thing that occurs 
to the traveler in Egypt is the fact that these 
ancient monuments are in a much better state 
of preservation than he had dared to hope for. 
The wonderful pigments, the blazing reds, 
greens and yellows, still shine in the sunlight, 
much as when they were placed upon the pillars 
by those artists who knew a secret of colour that 
has passed beyond the vast store of human 

194 



Gods of Love and Hate 195 



knowledge of the present. And that eternal 
turquoise blue that covers the ceilings! It is 
known as the '4ove-colour" of Egypt, and the 
world has copied it throughout the ages. The 
vaulted arches of these massive temples are all 
painted in the colours of the night sky. Bright, 
painted stars still twinkle in the blue as when the 
artists placed them there with the brush. Here, 
perhaps, as nowhere else, the antiquity of Egypt 
begins to reach the comprehension of the new- 
comer, and almost before he is aware of it he 
becomes deeply religious, forgetting for the 
hour the creeds that he has known from child- 
hood and basking in the reveries that compel 
him to analyze not only himself and his infini- 
tesimal part in time and space, but also his own 
thoughts as related to the thoughts of those mil- 
lions who have gone before him. 

Before the temples dedicated to fish-hawk- 
headed gods, crocodiles, cats and god-kings, it 
is something more than fortunate that the Nile 
traveler first sees the beautiful pile of stone 
dedicated to Hathor, the lady of love, in reality 
the Aphrodite of the later Greeks — the lady who 
still lives in our hearts and minds, although we 
no longer erect temples of stone to her or at- 
tempt to make her more easily understood by 
carving her smiling yet fearful face in stone. 



196 The Spell of Egypt 

As we sat on the deck of the dahabiyeh shortly 
after sunrise, waiting for the start to the temple 
of Hathor, I began to appreciate as I had not 
done before, that I was in the presence of the 
mightily ancient, the overwhelmingly ancient: 
but, as elsewhere, there was present the distress- 
ingly modern to complete the picture of contrast. 
Off there in the distance we could see the pylons 
of the temple, but at our sides were the half- 
naked and seemingly half-starved donkey boys, 
quarreling and fighting for patronage — these 
poor brown things, only a few grades removed 
in the intellectual scale from the animals they 
pounded with clubs and sticks, yet the descend- 
ants of men who carved pillars and embellished 
walls in a manner that has not been equaled by 
us, who have had forty centuries of human en- 
deavour and experience. As I sat there, listen- 
ing to the shouting of the Arab boys, I thought 
not of what they were saying, but that here on 
the Nile was the beginning of all things, except- 
ing human life itself. Here was the cradle from 
which the human race looked upon the world and 
saw that it was beautiful and a thing well worth 
while. Here man said that he would cease his 
wanderings, as animals had wandered in the 
jungle, and here he would adapt himself to his 
conditions and improve his kind. And the Nile, 



fV^~ .g., ^— JM 


\ •^ 


m 




^ 




^■■^^^^^^ ];i^ 






^-^Mi' ^ ,.ja^^. 


.^jMBgRH 


^^ 


1 


W^ 


ty 



Gods of Love and Hate 197 

on wMcli we were floating, was tlie source of Ms 
ambition. 

Here lie paused as lie wandered westward — 
as men have been always wandering — and 
stopping long enough to raise food for himself, 
he created what is known as real property. Dis- 
putes about the land were settled and this was 
the beginning of law. The movement of the sun, 
moon and stars, it was found, had something to 
do with the Nile flood, so men watched the 
heavenly bodies carefully. There were men who 
devoted much time — even their whole lives — to 
these observations, and the students were the 
creators of the priesthood. Finally, the priests 
ordered temples to be built and thus began re- 
ligion. The boldest leader of the people over- 
came the priests and became a king. These ob- 
servations were not new, we had heard them 
always.; but they came to me afresh as I sat by 
the bank of the Nile and looked out toward my 
first Egyptian temple. 

But Josef, the dragoman, does not care much 
about musings, and his voice quickly brought me 
out of my reverie. Everything was ready for 
the start. A big black policeman came gallop- 
ing up on an Arabian stallion, saying that he had 
received instructions from Cairo to accompany 
us. 



198 The Spell of Egypt 

''Very much beggars in Denderah," said 
Josef, ''and they keep away when they see the 
police." He was picturesque, this policeman, 
and he seemed to have difficulty in reining his 
prancing horse to the pace taken by our donkeys, 
which prefer to follow trails or paths, which did 
not seem to be to the liking of the officer. 

It is a futile and dangerous thing for a 
stranger to attempt to change conditions as he 
finds them in a foreign land, although he often 
suffer a pang of conscience in attempting to fol- 
low the rules laid down for him. For example, 
we would have rather taken the longer road, but 
the horse of the policeman bounded off the road 
into the fields of the fellaheen, and we followed 
him. We bumped along through wheat fields 
where the humble farmers looked up from their 
toil to see us pass and to measure the damage 
our passing had done to their crops. Perhaps 
the officer thought that a few donkey feet 
trample only a few blades of wheat — ^he said 
that they did not own the land and were what we 
call ' ' squatters ' ' — ^but perhaps he did not think 
at all. At any rate, we soon broke into a gallop 
and went flying along through the fields and over 
the small irrigation ditches, not more than a foot 
wide, into which the shaduf men were lifting 
water from the Nile in goatskins. And after an 



Gods of Love and Hate 199 

invigorating ride, in the still morning, we ap- 
proaclied close to the temple and dismounted, 
finding the donkey boys at our sides. They had 
gone as fast on foot as had the animals. And 
donkey boys receive whatever gratuity you give 
them as their wages. One day, after a ride of 
sixteen miles over a rough road, I gave the boy 
who had followed me a shilling. He was de- 
lighted and told me that the dragoman usually 
told him that he was so small he could run six- 
teen miles for ten cents ! 

There is a solemn grandeur to Denderah. 
The temple stands on a brown mound of earth. 
Not long ago this earth reached to the top of the 
temple columns ; but, by ceaseless toil, the debris 
has been removed and now the temple stands as 
it stood when first erected. One approaches it 
by large paving-stones that were the floor of the 
original entrance. Crowds of men and boys 
were removing the debris on their heads, and 
close inspection showed this to be a mass of 
broken sun-baked bricks and broken pottery — 
all souvenirs of that day when there was a large 
city here and Hathor smiled upon a worshiping 
population. The fields, as we approached, were 
littered with beautiful columns or granite orna- 
ments. But one becomes used to this in Egypt. 
I have seen women washing clothes at the river- 



200 The Spell of Egypt 

bank using a liieroglypMo slab as a washboard. 
I have seen finely carved black marble slabs used 
as steps to mudhouses. In the courtyard of a 
miserable mud house I saw a large red granite 
urn or vase fully three feet high — ^perhaps a 
holy water font from some temple — ^now con- 
taining enough earth to support a large plant 
which looked like a thistle. I have seen blue 
granite pillars, which were carved with infinite 
care, artistry and labour, helping to support 
walls that were built of tin cans, pots and mud. 

Viewed from a close range, Hathor's face 
sometimes wears a weary expression. It caps 
all the big pillars that support the great roof at 
the entrance to the temple and it seems to be 
everywhere within and without. After entering 
by the main portal, one passes on and on to halls 
of great gloom, lighted by small apertures in 
the wall which show the latter to be several feet 
in thickness. Here were performed the mys- 
terious rites of which we know comparatively 
nothing, but we carry candles and even in the 
gloom we discern wonderful sculptures and 
paintings on the walls. The mute figures are 
gesticulating to one another, dumbly motioning 
what they cannot say. 

But poor Hathor ! She had her day of glory, 
and is worshiped no more. She beckons and 




INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE OP HATHOR, DENDERAH. 



Gods of Love and Hate 201 

seems to nod and smile in these paintings, but 
her day is over. No longer can she fascinate 
men. Men have passed on to other gods, but 
she seems to say: '^Once men admired me." 
But we know that men do so no longer, and we 
listen to the voice of Josef, who leads us up the 
long staircases to the roof, where long priestly 
processions have marched with stately tread. 
We look down upon the poor fellaheen in their 
fields. They too, like Hathor, are dead. They 
seem to say: ^'1, too, was great; once men 
feared me, but they do so no longer." On the 
outer walls is Cleopatra's image, or a carving 
that bears her cartouche, and may have flattered 
her to suit her vanity. But Hathor 's vanity 
must also have been flattered by such a temple. 
One recalls that beautiful lady of Venice who 
retired from the world when she was still beau- 
tiful so that men might not see her in old age. 
Perhaps Hathor would have preferred to remain 
covered from the world. But I think not. She 
still smiles, intoxicates and entices. She pre- 
fers to be seen and the excavators are catering 
to her whim. And now sitting in the courtyard 
of the temple one looks up at that face that had 
seemed so weary from a distance, and almost 
fancies that a malicious joy or a coquettish 
smile overspreads it. Hathor is again in the 



202 The Spell of Egypt 

golden sunlight. She may greet the dawn for 
she faces the east, just as Cleopatra on the other 
side may view the setting sun. But the features 
of the figure bearing Cleopatra's cartouche do 
not change. Strangely appropriate it is that 
the queen of love should be represented in stone 
at this shrine to Hathor ; but the sculptor gave 
her classic features and a form that the scholars 
tell us Cleopatra did not bear at this time, for 
shown with her is her son, whose father was 
Julius CaBsar, already quite a youth. Different 
with the face of Hathor. As I sat in the shade 
of one of her mighty pillars and watched the 
men shoveling the accumulation of the ages, 
Hathor seemed to speak. ''If men no longer 
care for me, why do they labour so hard that 
other men may see my face ? ' ' 

The temple at Denderah is one of the most 
modern in Egypt, only boasting of something 
like two thousand years, which is not long in this 
land of eternity. History records, and several 
ancient chroniclers have commented upon the 
fact that the people of this city always held the 
crocodile in abhorrence, whereas the creatures 
were held in reverence in many parts of Egypt 
and worshiped at Kom Ombo. — Juvenal relates 
that a fight took place between the natives of 
Denderah and Kom Ombo, in which one of the 



Gods of Love and Hate 203 

former stubbed his toe and fell, and when be was 
caught by his enemies he was cut up and eaten. 
It is said that the people of Denderah, to show 
their hatred, tracked and destroyed all the croco- 
diles that came their way, thus constantly feed- 
ing the flames for the feud between the two 
cities. Strabo is authority for the statement 
that the natives felt no fear in regard to croco- 
diles, and freely crossed the river, although the 
danger was well known even to peoples who con- 
sidered them sacred. 

And with this vision of the love goddess in 
our minds, where it will always remain, we 
drifted along the river, one day landing at the 
other temple whose priests had raged and fumed 
at the worshipers of Denderah — that temple 
which of all in Egypt seemed to be the antithe- 
sis of the first that met our eyes. Instinctively 
we felt that we could not have much in common 
with worshipers of the crocodile, and perhaps 
our prejudices were enhanced by our knowledge 
of the bitter hatred that existed here for our 
friend Hathor of Denderah. For we felt that 
whatever we might see further up the river, we 
should not come into more intimate associations 
elsewhere with a goddess. We liked to recall 
our day with her, even in our daily routine of 
new sights and fascinations. And, like many 



204 The Spell of Egypt 

another traveler, each, of us vowed to remain 
true to our first love. Yet one of the temples 
that interested us most was that stately pile at 
Kom Ombo. After all, one might expect the 
goddess of Love to be enshrined amid beautiful 
columns and bright paintings and carvings. It 
would seem quite likely that a people who wor- 
shiped the sun-god or gods that were judges of 
right and justice, should be able to erect splen- 
did homes for their deities. Confucius said one 
may judge a people by the music it practises; 
but a very safe rule is to judge men by their 
religion and by their architecture. Likely as 
not, the stranger will not expect much of a house 
of worship built by worshipers of one of the 
lowliest forms of life that exists. They must 
have been very far down in the scale of men- 
tality, for we know that even the people of their 
own time, in the not far distant city of Edfu, 
where the hawk-god was worshiped, detested 
the crocodile and hated the people of Kom Ombo 
with a fanatical hatred on account of crocodile 
worship. And yet we cannot see such a differ- 
ence between bending the knee to Horus or 
Sebek. But Horus was the Apollo of the 
ancient world, the son of Isis and Osiris — and 
Sebek was just a crocodile — ^that drawling 
lizardly thing of destruction that causes one to 



Gods of Love and Hate 205 

shudder when beholding him in his native 
haunts. And in this connection, with my mind 
always on the links that bind ancient Egypt with 
the present, it pleased me as I sat resting by a 
pillar in Sebek's temple, to observe more lizards 
creeping and capering about than I had observed 
elsewhere. In the Hawk temple at Edfu, five 
hawks had perched themselves before me in the 
open court, and now the little four-legged crea- 
tures, which seemed to be lineal descendants of 
Sebek, found asylum in his majestic temple at 
Kom Ombo. 

Ascending or descending the Nile, one is 
struck with the fact that most of the temples are 
set far back from the present banks of the river, 
although the old stream may have changed its 
course many times since it began to flow down 
through Egypt to bring life to millions of people. 
It is now a two- or three-hour donkey ride to 
some of the ancient shrines. They seem to be 
tucked away and forgotten — away off there in 
rubbish heaps of the centuries ; and in reality, 
many of them are now coming into the glare of 
the sun for the first time since the shifting sands 
of the desert filled them with dirt and buried 
them as completely as their builders were buried 
in the rock tombs of the mountains. Thus, 
Josef, our dragoman, can remember when a 



X 



206 The Spell of Egypt 

populous mud-village was standing upon a 
mound that inclosed the temple of Hathor at 
Denderah. An old hotel proprietor at Luxor 
told me that he could remember when sand and 
debris threatened to cover the ancient temple 
there. Destructive agencies seem to have been 
at work on all of them and their sites — all ex- 
cepting the temple of the crocodile at Kom 
Ombo — and while the Nile seemed to be en- 
croaching too near the foundations here and did 
some damage, that has been checked by the res- 
toration clan, and perhaps this temple will be 
standing when some of the others have passed 
to memory. 

Approaching it from the north or south shore 
of the river, one looks far ahead and at a sharp 
bend observes the sj>lendid columns supporting 
the gigantic stones of the roof. It is a struc- 
ture whose builders gave an imposing site that 
no Nile travelers might overlook. It still rises 
like some majestic castle on the Ehine — ^the ob- 
served of all passers-by. And yet it was erected 
by crocodile worshipers! Strabo, who left 
chatty accounts of so much that occurred in 
Egypt of ancient days, declares that in the 
sacred lake of Kom Ombo, the crocodile was not 
only worshiped, but adorned with rare jewels. 
Necklaces of almost priceless value were hung 



Gods of Love and Hate 207 

about the creatures' necks, and great festivals 
were held in their honour. But it all seemed to 
be so remote from our civilization, so absolutely 
foreign to our natures, that I confess as I 
climbed the steep bank to this shrine of Sebek, 
I felt only what might be called a dutiful, pitying 
and historical interest. 

Yet in the temple of the crocodile I saw things 
which the guide books overlook and do not men- 
tion; several things which closely connect the 
temple with our life of the present day, as I had 
found them in no other temple of Egypt. After 
all, we no longer worship the crocodile, but men 
who did seem to have progressed in many of the 
arts and sciences about as far as we have; and 
before I left the place I came to the conclusion — 
so often reached before — that when we sneer 
at men of other beliefs we usually do so in ig- 
norance. The excavators have had rich reward 
for their diggings in this temple and its vicinity, 
for it would seem that the embalmers were as 
busy making mummies of crocodiles here as they 
were elsewhere preserving the human form 
divine for all eternity. The museums of the 
world have been stocked with mummies of croco- 
diles from Kom Ombo. Men have found big 
vaults and chapels literally packed with these 
creatures in layers like sardines in a box, and 



208 The Spell of Egypt 

some of them were monsters, much larger than 
the average specimen to be found in zoological 
gardens today. As I looked into one chapel, a 
half dozen snouts were pointed toward me, and 
twelve-footers looked as if they were about to 
crawl forth and devour the desecrators of their 
temple. But they, like the other mummies, have 
been too long still to move at the boldest desecra- 
tion. The other day I saw men taking mummies 
out of pits and piling them beside the path like 
cordwood. ''One, two, three" — only they sang 
as they worked — and an ancient gentleman or 
lady of Egypt was thrown to the top of the heap. 
There were many dogs around and I asked one 
of the guards if they ever gnawed at the mum- 
mies. * ' No, ' ' he replied with a grin, ' ' they pre- 
fer fresh meat." 

Robert Hichens once remarked that buildings 
have personalities, and while the remark seemed 
to be a little far-fetched at the time, I fully sub- 
scribe to it after seeing Egypt and Nubia. 
Some buildings put forth a compelling, yet ten- 
der appeal that causes one to desire to worship. 
Others seem to be stately and grand, but repel- 
ling and cold in their grandeur. Kom Ombo, 
whether from association of ideas or not, seems, 
on close inspection, to be positively ugly. Its 
colossal pillars and tremendous arcades and ap- 



Gods of Love and Hate 209 

proaches are much the same as they are in other 
temples, but there is not in the whole, the lace- 
like structure, the dream-compelling loveliness 
that the temple visitor will discern sooner or 
later in most of the others. But what interested 
me most was to go to the rear wall of the temple 
and find on the walls, where one usually finds 
gods and goddesses, and the kings and priests 
making offerings to them, a complete surgical 
laboratory ! These carvings date at least from 
the Ptolemaic era in Egyptian history — and this 
is the despised temple of the crocodile — ^yet here 
we have the strongest reminder that we are 
about as were the men who directed the chisel 
and mallet. Even in surgery, we have not pro- 
gressed to any marked degree. In the carvings, 
the surgeon stands beside his operating table, 
and, on the wall beside him, hang most of the 
instruments that are familiar to surgeons today 
for the performance of the most delicate opera- 
tions. In outline and general curvature they 
have changed very little in the course of the cen- 
turies, and some today retain exactly the shape 
pictured on the walls. 

Scientists have long claimed that the ancient 
Egyptians attended lectures on philosophy and 
medical science, but their belief has been chal- 
lenged. Here, at Kom Ombo, it seems to me is 



210 The Spell of Egypt 

the proof positive that medicine had reached a 
lofty status in ancient Egypt, when, to para- 
phrase Disraeli, the other nations of the world 
were running around with blue paint on their 
faces. Here it seems is the most modern ancient 
thing in Egypt, for while many of the carvings 
and paintings point to the fact that life here 
three or four thousand years ago was not so 
much different from life now, the surgical carv- 
ings and paintings prove that we have not even 
progressed an appreciable degree in science, 
which is our boast. Yet beside the old is the 
new, here at Kom Ombo, and I do not refer to 
the surgical drawings. Smoke stacks are com- 
paratively rare throughout the long reaches of 
the Nile, that races down to the Mediterranean 
from central Africa. A few of them in the vil- 
lages mark the sites of sugar factories — ^but coal 
is more expensive than men, as I have heard 
more than once in Nubia, and there have been 
some dismal experiments in attempting to prove 
to the contrary. Beside the crocodile temple 
is what is said to be the largest pumping station 
in the world, erected through the energies of 
London capitalists, who have successfully re- 
claimed thousands of acres of land that was con- 
sidered worthless until it was watered by arti- 
ficial means from the Nile flood. The bank here 



Gods of Love and Hate 211 

is high, but great pumps fill large canals and 
these flow in all directions and cause the land to 
bear three crops a year. The investment has 
paid handsomely, and only goes to prove that if 
it had water, the land of Arabian and Libyan 
deserts would produce crops that would be diffi- 
cult to equal elsewhere on earth. As it is, there 
are only date palms, melon vines, cucumbers, 
peas and beans, which are planted by the fella- 
heen in the Nile mud and kept from baking by 
the buckets in the hands of the peasants whose 
muscles must ache and whose heads must grow 
dizzy — ^but ''men are cheaper than coal in 
Nubia" — and doubtless will be for many years 
to come. 




CHAPTEE X 

AN ANCIENT METKOPOLIS 

■ NE never knows how far a daliabiyeh will 
run in a single day. As soon as the sun 
beams a little light over the eastern 
horizon, the boys pull the big stakes which have 
kept you from drifting during the night, and as 
they sing and the reis rings his bell, all begins 
merrily for the day. The wind rarely blows in 
the early morning in Egypt ; or, if it does, it is 
one of those gentle winds that are welcome. 
The first few mornings, after watching these 
operations, it seemed that the destination might 
be reached before night — that one might start 
back on the following day. But everything in 
Egypt seems to be carefree and optimistic, at 
least, to the optimist. But after a few days of 
Nile sailing these pretty harbingers of speed 
have no effect. There are sandbars, and the 
river itself seems to turn and bend like a cork- 
screw; at this season of year there are winds 
from the desert during the day such as one never 
dreamed could blow, hot winds laden with little 

212 



An Ancient Metropolis 213 

funnels of sand that come sweeping along like 
miniature cyclones and not only impede the 
progress of the boat, but practically stop it until 
they have passed — and as they sometimes last 
for no longer than three minutes, and sometimes 
for three days, speculation on the dahabiyeh's 
run during the fourteen or fifteen hours of day- 
light is much more uncertain than upon the num- 
ber of miles that will be made by an Atlantic 
liner between noon and noon. Many days ago 
we gave up all schedules. We merely said that 
when we reached PhilsB we would visit ''Pha- 
raoh's Bed," when we were at Abu Simbel, we 
would wait until we could see the morning 
sun light up the sanctuaries of the temple, 
but we soon learned that it was futile to say 
that we would do so on Tuesday morning or 
Saturday morning. The Nile is dictatorial and 
stubborn, and usually seems to take delight in 
throwing the well-laid plans of men into confu- 
sion. 

It was after several days of drifting in this 
fashion that we tied up to the bank for the night 
to wait for another day's start. It was exactly 
like so many other tie-ups had been. A Nubian 
boy touched a little brass gong that told us din- 
ner was ready — a dinner of eight courses, which 
seems to be the Egyptian's idea of how a white 



214 The Spell of Egypt 

man should enjoy himself — and before we knew 
it, the crew were squatting on the hank, in little 
circles of four or five around a single pot of 
beans and lentils, into which they dipped pieces 
of black bread, which they conveyed to their 
mouths amid what has always seemed to be 
ceaseless chatter and more *' table-talk" than 
things to eat. Our dinner was eaten, and about 
eight o'clock I came on deck to sit and smoke in 
the moonlight, and it was by the merest chance 
that I looked out over the slowly receding bank 
of the river, toward the big rose-coloured moun- 
tain range that formed a background to the 
eternal picture — the splendid panorama on the 
banks of the Nile. 

Two massive things stood up like sentinels in 
the moonlight, two gigantic creatures with heads 
as large as the largest automobile I had ever 
seen, perhaps as large as a small freight car — 
and the figures were proportionate. The great 
silent creatures had great hands resting on their 
knees and they were seated on gigantic chairs 
that rested on high pedestals. They seemed 
quite appalling, and while there was no question 
in my mind as to the identity of our watchmen 
for the night, I sent for the dragoman. It was 
one of those moments when one does not care to 
take his own beliefs and opinions and wants the 




';^^t2%-.r!^'^ 



An Ancient Metropolis 215 

corroboration of one whom lie considers an 
authority. 

*'The Colossi of Menmon," said Josef, *'we 
are at old Thebes. Up there is the Eameseum, 
over there the temple of Kamak, and, in the 
distance, you can see the temple of Luxor." 

He said it as he might have said: "Mrs. 
Smith lives over there, and next to that is the 
Jones farm, while over there is the brick fac- 
tory. ' ' 

Yet we were at Thebes, once the most wonder- 
ful city in the world, the city which Homer said 
''had a hundred gates," the city through which 
dashed twenty thousand chariots of war when 
the King raised his hand, the city that possessed 
the most majestic buildings that have ever been 
constructed by man, the city that for centuries 
caused the whole world to tremble, certainly the 
greatest metropolis of olden days, and still show- 
ing a site upon which the entire city of Paris 
could be set down; and yet Josef and his boat- 
men were unmoved. If the Colossi of Memnon 
had not been so far back from the river, the boys 
would have had no hesitancy in hitching our boat 
to one of their toes, instead of going to the 
trouble of driving a stake. 

''We'll visit the Colossi tomorrow," said 
Josef wearily. 



216 The Spell of Egypt 

'^ Perhaps," I replied, "but I'll visit the 
Colossi tonight," and I quickly ran down the 
little plank to the shore and directed my steps 
through the fields to the figures that once 
marked the approach to a temple, but now 
seemed merely to be serving as guards for a 
lonely dahabiyeh, whose crew cared no more for 
them than for any stone we had passed on the 
Nile voyage. They were further back from the 
river than had seemed at first glance from the 
deck. There were wide fields to be covered be- 
fore I arrived at their pedestals, but they be- 
came more awe-inspiring and majestic with each 
step in their direction. Perhaps the moonlight 
helped to veil the mutilation that has crept over 
the faces in the centuries that have passed. 
Two big crowns that once stood upon their heads 
are gone, and in the daytime it is difficult to 
trace their facial features, but at night they do 
not lack expression. Never had I seen anything 
that seemed to look down with such ironic scorn 
upon the present. A day to them is but an elec- 
tric spark of light, a year is like the flash of a 
star, a century but the winking of an eye ! 

As I sat there beside them in the moonlight in 
the forsaken fields they paid no attention to me. 
But why should they? They paid no attention 
when the great Emperor Hadrian came here 



An Ancient Metropolis 217 

with, a vast retinue and spent several days at 
their feet. They are not respecters of persons. 
They cared no more for those modern emperors 
of what we call ancient Rome than for the hum- 
ble fellaheen who till the fields at their bases. 
They are weary, perhaps weary of the vast pro- 
cessions of men who have passed them during 
thousands of years. There was never such 
stately dignity; never such lofty scorn. The 
hour grew late and I left the giant sentinels 
with a vow to return early next morning as 
Strabo had done, Juvenal, Sabina, ^ilus Grallus, 
Hadrian and mighty men of the world. Some 
of them declared that the Colossus to the north 
was vocal at sunrise, the Caruso of the ancient 
world. The phenomenon seems to have been 
noted down about the time of the beginning of 
the Christian era, and the children of the world 
have read about it since that time in their geog- 
raphies. Some scientists have believed that the 
early sunrise caused the stone to vibrate after 
the cool night, causing the statue to emit a wail- 
ing, mournful sound. Others have believed that 
it was a trick of the ancient priests, who con- 
cealed themselves in the statue and made the 
sound themselves. 

But Memnon's singing days are over. Juve- 
nal declares that he heard him and so did Ha- 



218 The SpeU of Egypt 

drian. But in the early morning, when sunrise 
found me at its base, there was no sound, except- 
ing the singing of the fellaheen boys at their 
work. The colossus was silent and grim — ^like 
his partner, he declined to vocalize. 

Here, it seems was the original idiot who 
sought to borrow fame by linking his name with 
something immortal. Here was the beginning 
of scratching one's name where the passers-by 
of future generations might not entirely forget. 
The legs of the Colossi are covered with names 
of visitors who came here during the Roman 
empire. The court poet Balbilla left a poem to 
declare that Memnon recognized Hadrian, and 
another ancient Roman said in verse that the 
* ' song" was the wail of Memnon for the injuries 
wrought upon it by Cambyses. Other visitors 
to Thebes may be more impressed by the fluted 
and lotus-decked columns of the temples, by the 
gigantic statues of men, and images of sphinxes, 
by the grandeur of the Rameseum, the pink 
temple against the mountainside, erected by 
Hatasu, the Queen Elizabeth of ancient Egypt, 
who ever wore the artificial beard of a Pharaoh, 
the black marble statues of ,cat-Tieaded god- 
desses, by the majestic tombs of the kings in the 
mountains beyond — ^there is majesty to all of 
these relics of the past ; grandeur that the world 



An Ancient Metropolis 219 

does not know today, awful solemnity, and a sug- 
gestion of the nothingness of the present ; but I 
prefer to remember Thebes by those dignified 
gentlemen who sit with their hands on their 
knees. There is the '' demonstration" attitude 
advocated by modern mental scientists. There 
is no such calm as that which spreads itself on 
the fertile plain at their feet. They have seen 
Pharaohs depart and kings return, the centuries 
of men's joys, and they have seen whole dynas- 
ties lowered into the tomb — ^but they changed 
not and did not alter their expression. The 
toilers at their heels heed them not, nor do 
dragomen who bring the curious herd along the 
Mle. Only those visitors who come from afar 
pause long enough to contemplate their eternal 
majesty. But the Colossi care not. Nothing 
that men would do could cause them to care. 
They merely sit there and look toward the rising 
sun. 

*'Once an English woman asked me: 'Who 
are those Johnnies out there?' " said Josef, as 
he saw me still watching the Colossi as night 
was approaching again. ' ' I told her they were 
the Colossi of Memnon, two of the oldest gen- 
tlemen in Egypt, and she said : ' They certainly 
look it,' at the same time telling me to take her 
where something worth while was going on — . 



220 The Spell of Egypt 

meaning afternoon tea at the Winter Palace 
hotel at Luxor. ' ' 

And with subtle Oriental irony, it seemed to 
me, Josef contrived to bring us to the same rose 
garden at the hour for tea. Nowadays it is 
more fashionable to have one 's tea at Luxor than 
on the Eiviera or in Switzerland, and although 
**out of season" there were a few English 
women puffing cigarettes and chattering about 
the absurdity of Turkish coffee when one might 
be drinking the green beverage. Over across 
the river sat the two ' ' Johnnies ' ' and of course 
it was a fancy, but I imagined that I read their 
thoughts. We seemed to be thinking of the 
same thing, the Messrs, Memnon and I, as we 
watched the cigarette and tea fiends from King 
George 's little island near the Irish coast. 

But, after all, as Josef reminded us one morn- 
ing, ''the Colossi of Memnon are not all there is 
to see in Thebes," and, acting on his suggestion, 
we allowed our dahabiyeh to remain moored to 
the Theban bank for many days. Each night 
when we returned, weary and dusty from the 
day's rambles, we were informed that we had 
not yet seen what our dragoman considered the 
''principal sight," so the next morning's sun 
usually found us preparing to mount donkeys 
for a programmed inspection of a temple or 



An Ancient Metropolis 221 

tomb, and it seemed that Thebes became more 
and more awesome, inspiring and fascinating as 
the days passed. 

During the first days of our visit, we wanted 
no program and felt that we had never enjoyed 
fuller days in our lives. It never rains here. 
One takes no thought of the weather in planning 
the day's excursion, so little wonder that the site 
was not passed by those ancient builders of cities 
who must have loved the sunshine and quickly 
recognized that here was an ideal halting-place 
in the march of civilization southward. One 
loiters by stately avenues of sphinxes, goes into 
colossal temples, inspects gorgeous pillars that 
reach their highly-coloured caps an almost in- 
credible distance toward the sky, sits in the 
shade of colossal blue granite statues, one bathes 
in the sunlight of this magnificent city of dreams, 
chats with the poor remnants of humanity now 
living here, and then when the day is done, and 
when several days are done, returns to the 
dahabiyeh to find that the '* principal sights" 
have been overlooked altogether, so after a while 
we give ourselves over to the hands of Josef 
again and tell him to show us finally what most 
attracts the attention of the crowds who come 
here from foreign lands. 

And then, as if he had learned his guidebook 



222 The Spell of Egypt 

verbatim, like a teacher pulling the petals from 
a flower, one by one, to demonstrate the princi- 
ples of botany, we follow his program closely. 
It was far greater joy to stumble upon the 
sacred lake beside a temple at Karnak, to sit 
down beside the giant granite scarab and recon- 
struct in a mental picture those stately proces- 
sions that filed into the lake from stone quays 
and performed religious ablutions. The scarab, 
that ever present symbol of fertility ! One has 
seen its figure carved on green, blue or brown 
steatite, basalt, jasper, lapis-lazuli, carnelian 
and glass. Here it is in enduring granite ! One 
feels that he has made the discovery, just as he 
feels he has made a discovery when unaccom- 
panied and unguided he wanders alone into any 
one of the million nooks of Thebes and comes 
upon something that prompts him to hesitate. 
Here, as the inscriptions prove, was the chief re- 
ligious center of Egypt for two thousand years, 
and the most powerful kings of the land seem 
each to have tried to outdo his predecessor in 
lavish expenditure. Thebes is not a place 
merely to see. One prefers to inhale it and 
digest its wonders at leisure. 

So after we had finished Josef's program, 
after we had seen all the places where the guide- 
books told us to go, and our dragoman had re- 



An Ancient Metropolis 223 

cited his rhapsodic prose, partly learned from 
guidebooks and partly from word of mouth, for 
he has spent his life among these ancient splen- 
dours, frequently enough as interpreter for 
savants and scientists, whose every observation 
and word he seems to recall ; for Josef, like his 
brethren of Egypt, is an observant person with 
a memory like a sponge that seems to absorb 
everything that passes under his observation, 
after he announced that we had ' ' done ' ' Thebes 
in a more leisurely manner than was usual with 
foreigners who come to Egypt, we rather star- 
tled him by telling him that he could have a few 
days^ vacation similar to the first days after 
our arrival. We had decided to *'do" Thebes 
over again. We had seen the ''sights," and 
now we wanted to wander and drift about the 
remains of the old sunshine metropolis hearing 
no dragoman's voice reciting history and urging 
us on to the next ''point of interest." At last 
we had become intoxicated by Egyptian sun- 
beams and the magic of Old Nile. Tomorrow 
would do for the start up the river ; and tomor- 
row 's tomorrow. So we stayed on and on, and 
when we knew that the time for our depar- 
ture was approaching, we congratulated Josef. 
Here had been the "object of all travel," which 
poor old insular Dr. Johnson believed was the 



224 The Spell of Egypt 

Mediterranean, and we were satisfied. Josef 
had planned it wisely, after all. Nothing, we 
declared, could equal the splendour of Thebes. 

''But Philse remains," he corrected. 

''There cannot be more than one Thebes in 
the world," we replied, "a sphere such as our 
earth could not have but one metropolis like this. 
We know that everything else must have less 
interest to the visitor. ' ' 

"And Cairo remains," said Josef. 

But while we had learned from experience 
that Josef "knows best," we held to our indi- 
vidual opinions. 

Ancient Thebes stood on both sides of the 
great river. Its founder's name is lost in the 
maze of antiquity. Diodorus and others have 
declared that it was the most ancient city of 
Egypt, the belief being that like Memphis, of 
which so little now remains, it was founded by 
Menes, who according to the tablet of Abydos, 
which gives the names of seventy-six dynastic 
kings, was the first human ruler of the land. 
Whether or not it be entitled to this distinction, 
it is assuredly one of the most ancient, as is 
proved by the recent work of Mr. Georges Le- 
grain, whom we saw busily directing a group of 
natives who seemed to be more active in the 
direction of restoration than excavation. Le- 




INTERIOR OF TEMPLE, KARNAK. 



An Ancient Metropolis 225 

grain has found that the temple of Karnak of 
the eighteenth dynasty, stood upon the remains 
of the temple of the eleventh and twelfth dynas- 
ties and that this in turn covered the site of a 
temple of the second dynasty, and the hope is 
entertained that he may yet. prove, what is said 
to be his belief, that this early structure stood 
upon the ruins of a temple to some god of the 
pre-dynastic period, when the mists were barely 
rolling away from the face of the earth. The 
same custom, however, obtains today, through- 
out the land of Egypt. Often enough the 
mosque is built on the site of a Christian sanctu- 
ary, which was in turn built upon the ruins of a 
pagan house of worship. When a mud village 
crumbles and falls, the builders of the new are 
likely to erect their structures upon the ruins of 
the old. When comparatively recent excava- 
tions brought the temple of Denderah to the 
light, it was first necessary to destroy the mud 
village perched upon its roof, around which the 
sand had formed a mound. By his investiga- 
tions, Legrain has added two thousand years to 
the positive history of the Karnak monuments, 
and what he has done here, other men are likely 
to do at Luxor and across the river. 

There is no authentic Egyptian contemporary 
history of Thebes. It is fairly safe to assume, 



226 The SpeU of Egypt 

however, from the ruins that remain, that the 
seemingly extravagant writings of ancient his- 
torians were rather founded on truth, if they did 
occasionally seem to drift toward the mythical 
and legendary. It was the abiding-place of 
Amen-Ea, the great god of all Egypt, and conse- 
quently the city gained a splendour not equaled 
by any other. The "twenty thousand chariots 
of war" referred to by Homer, are now believed 
to have been literally possible. Strabo says the 
city was nine miles in length, and it is certain 
from the scattered ruins that this area was 
covered by mighty structures time seems unable 
to destroy. It was the city of No referred to in 
the Hebrew scriptures (Ezekiel xxx:14) and 
in various cuneiform inscriptions. 

Thebes has a charm for the tourist that is not 
possessed by any of the other shrines further 
down the river, but even here, as elsewhere, one 
realizes that he cannot stay on forever, particu- 
larly when a dragoman at one's arm seems to be 
incessantly reminding his charge of the brevity 
of human life and the short time of it allotted to 
a tour of Egypt. So finally our day of depar- 
ture was agreed upon, and as a grand crowning 
event of our last day, we made an excursion to 
the tombs of the kings and queens, four miles 
from the river, away off there beyond the great 



An Ancient Metropolis 227 

hill of stone that forms the western background 
of the ancient city. And if other days in Thebes 
had aroused our emotions, they were as nothing 
compared to this ride around and over the hill 
which seems almost to groan beneath its weight 
of memories. Along this path had passed great 
national processions of splendour, as one by one 
the rulers of mighty Egypt were carried to their 
last resting-places, which they had carved for 
themselves as fitting abodes until that last day 
when they would live again. The rock-tombs, 
built in the most spectacular day of Theban 
glory, are unlike all others in Egypt. As the 
Danish prince remarked of his father, *' there 
was a man," here were fitting abodes for mighty 
kings of a mighty people. Let the guidebooks 
describe them in detail. We prowled into many 
of these gaudily painted and deserted caverns, 
and found one as interesting as another. Each 
left us speechless in wonder, although we 
thought that we could never marvel at anything 
after we had inspected the corpse of Thebes on 
the yellow sands beside the river. 

But as before, retrospection seemed to be the 
most wonderful part of all. When we were 
again adrift on the Nile, I thought most of that 
last Theban day, and not of the blue granite bust 
of Eameses lying prone in the sand, not of the 



228 The Spell of Egypt 

gentlemen of Memnon in the wheat fields with 
the fellaheen toiling at the bases of their colossal 
chairs, not of the lotus-capped pillars of Karnak 
and Luxor and ceased trying to reconstruct a 
picture of the Thebes of the past. I could not 
forget those last moments, for over there behind 
the hill I had a private interview with a king of 
Egypt, one of the mightiest of the clan. After 
all, that was my last memory of Thebes, for it 
was the first time that I had been permitted to 
sit down in a chamber all alone with royalty. 
And, needless to say, I was very much impressed 
by the experience. I had been told that kings 
were very much like other human beings, that 
most of them came to their lofty stations by hap- 
penings of birth and that they were subject to all 
the thrills, joys, sorrows and emotions of other 
men. I had been told that there was little about 
them to suggest that they were not exactly like 
their lowliest subjects — and the few specimens 
of king that I have seen rather favoured this 
report. But I did not call upon one of the gar- 
den variety of king, one of them who stalk 
around and pretend to be rulers of men, while in 
reality men make their own laws and seem to 
retain kings as a sort of courtesy to ancient cus- 
tom. He was ''every inch a king" — a man who 
made his own laws and executed them, one who 



An Ancient Metropolis 229 

raised his hand and the earth trembled, one who 
gave the signal and a nation dashed by in war 
chariots to annihilate another nation — a builder 
of temples, cities and tombs that were designed 
to endure for five thousand years. This was a 
king worth seeing ! 

And yet he seemed to be a modest gentleman, 
with a firm upper lip of determination, the pro- 
truding jaw of perseverance and features over 
which a smile seemed to play as I sat alone with 
him in his lavishly embellished audience cham- 
ber. Perhaps he was not so retiring in disposi- 
tion once upon a time. Paintings and carvings 
depict him as holding his enemies in a bunch by 
the hair of the head, and when he drove out in 
his chariot, the vanquished fell beneath his 
wheels. But, as before noted, he is no upstart 
pretender to royal honours. Amenophis had 
been in his tomb for centuries when Rome was 
founded. He reigned while the Israelites were 
still in bondage in Egypt. And such a tomb as 
he built for himself ! It is far in the interior of 
the mountain, carved out of the solid rock, and 
its great chambers, which seem to echo and pro- 
claim one's footsteps a desecration, also pro- 
claim his greatness. He is shown slaying seven 
Syrian chiefs at one time with his own hand. 
There was no feat too extravagant for him to 



230 The Spell of Egypt 

record as his own. But perhaps that is a mortal 
weakness from which the world has not re- 
covered, although we have had centuries of 
** civilizing'* influence since Amenophis lived. 
And he alone, of the tribes of kings of ancient 
Egypt, has been left where he was laid when 
death overtook him, or at least he alone of those 
tribes that have been found in their hiding-places 
by the hordes of robbers who have infested 
Egypt, since long before Amenophis lived, for 
kings themselves were not above robbing the 
tombs of their predecessors. Gold was rare 
then, as it is rare now. Sapphires were precious 
as they are today. Sentiment in such matters 
is modern. There was a day when might was 
right. 

It was a long donkey ride out there to the re- 
ception chamber of Amenophis, and the path 
most of the way was through the rocky gorge of 
limestone mountains that seemed to be pink in 
the rosy morning sunlight. When we arrived, 
we found that the other royalty had departed 
for the Museum at Cairo, but Amenophis was 
here, and it seemed particularly fitting that His 
Majesty should have been left in his palace. 
People who see him must come a long way to 
gaze on his face. Over his head *'in season" 
shines an electric light, and the curious stand 



An Ancient Metropolis 231 

back in a little gallery near the last chamber of 
the tomb, while the Egyptian watchman touches 
a button. The light flashes, and the profane 
starers of the agencies are satisfied. The king 
does not appear to care, however, and lies there 
calmly in his electric brilliancy, making the calm 
dignity of his features even more marked. 
Here was a king worthy of the name, and time 
plays no part in his greatness. 

But when I arrived, the ''season" was over 
and there was no electricity. When I dis- 
mounted in front of the big square opening and 
decline into the side of the mountain, the guard 
*' regretted" that I would not have a good look 
at His Majesty, but a letter from M. Maspero, 
considered by many to be the leading Egyptolo- 
gist of the world, quickly solved the problem. 
The guard lit a tray of candles and unlocked the 
iron door which clicks back and forth on its 
squeaky hinges, where stones that men scarcely 
know how to move today, were piled up to assure 
privacy to Amenophis. The letter from Mas- 
pero acted as magic, and when I informed the 
guard that I would like to climb over the railing 
and sit alone beside the king for a time, he 
smiled, but readily consented to permit me to do 
so, and he went over into the pit ahead of me and 
placed the candles along the rim of the sarcoph- 



232 The Spell of Egypt 

agus so that Amenopliis and I might see one 
another during my audience. 

In the meantime he wandered away, perhaps 
amusing himself by looking at the paintings on 
the walls of the tomb's various chambers, and, 
in the comparatively dim light, the thought came 
to me that he might forget that I was there — he 
might forget to come back and get me! He 
might go away and attend to his own affairs. 
He had broken one rule and permitted me to go 
in beside the king. One so lax of duty might 
forget anything else. Or the solid stone walls 
to the last chamber might fall with a crash. 
They have stood for thousands of years, but 
everything has its end, and what if this were to 
be mine ! Just then I looked again at the calm 
and reassuring features of the king and I did 
not care ! Perhaps a mummy with exactly such 
an expression has never been found. He is 
wrapped in his funeral garments and the gar- 
lands that were laid upon him by his family and 
loyal subjects three thousand years ago — per- 
haps much more — are still there. The paint- 
ings that he caused to be placed upon his palace 
walls have retained their brilliancy and outline. 
They record his deeds of daring and his tri- 
umphs. Great in life he wanted to be great in 
death, and he is great, even sublime. Who 



An Ancient Metropolis 233 

would fear to be forever with, sucli a man? But 
after a while, the guard came back and began 
to explain the pictures in the tomb. At the mo- 
ment it seemed to be an intrusion, for the king 
had not called him ; but perhaps he thought that 
it was time for my audience to end. 

It has been said that the Egyptians must have 
been the most immoral people in the world a few 
thousand years ago, for they alone of all people 
decorated their tombs with reproductions of the 
gay as well as the somber moments of their lives. 
They did not hesitate to bring here the troupes 
of dancing girls who had helped to make them 
merry in life. The girls frolic and cavort about 
in most inappropriate fashion, but doubtless the 
king had enjoyed their antics while he was alive 
and he did not want to be lonesome through the 
long eternity. And, besides, it is difficult for 
us to judge of the morals of three thousand 
years ago, when we see that geography plays 
such an important part in the morals of the pres- 
ent. The Egyptian girl, who would not dare to 
show her face on the street, smokes innumerable 
cigarettes and considers her American sister a 
shameless hussy, while the majority of Ameri- 
can girls do not exactly smile upon the cigarette 
habit for women. *'East is East and West is 
West" — ^morally as well as physically. 



234 The Spell of Egypt 

It is impossible to convey an adequate impres- 
sion of the tomb of AmenopMs. From a stair- 
way and square door one enters into a series of 
large and small chambers and passages — all 
chiseled out of the solid rock, and each a little 
more descending than the one before it, some- 
times falling off steeply, so that it would be diffi- 
cult to descend but for the unevenly cut rock. 
And straight ahead there is a deep well which 
must be passed at the side, for the sly old fox 
designed this well as a trap in which to catch the 
desecrators of his tomb. Far down under the 
earth one passes by many walls bright with 
mural paintings. The king is depicted as pass- 
ing through the underworld in the sunboat, 
guarded by two large snakes. Also on the walls 
down the steep inclines are reproductions of the 
sarcophagus taking its long slide into the eternal 
rock. It reaches the last chamber and the king 
is judged. Probably he had his ^'judgment" 
painted before his death, and he gave himself 
eternal life. All of these ancient men seemed 
to be thinking so much about immortality that 
they felt they could not afford to spend too much 
time thinking of the present. When a man be- 
came a king, he began to erect or chisel his tomb. 
What was loved in life he wanted close at hand 
after life was over, and he ran no chances but 



An Ancient MetropoKs 235 

directed that they be placed where he wanted 
them, so that he might see them with his own 
eyes. It was something of a shock when the 
dragoman told us the other day that the Egyp- 
tologists and scientists believe that these great 
kings and rulers lived in mud houses, as their 
descendants do today, and thought only of the 
hereafter when they were building their temples 
and tombs. In all Egypt, I believe, there re- 
mains but one ancient and authenticated royal 
palace of stone — and that is attached to a tem- 
ple. The present was nothing; what counted 
was the great unknown future — immortality. 

Amenophis seems to have gained his wish. 
Three thousand years have left his features as 
finely cut as when he was placed in the tomb. 

''Meester know name of his donkey?" grin- 
ningly asked the donkey boy as I emerged from 
the tomb-palace, my thoughts still on the great 
king I had visited. 

"Teddy Eoos-felt," snorted the youngster. 
If I had been a German, the donkey's name 
would have been *^ Kaiser Wilhelm." 

And then it was no use trying. Every time I 
tried to think of Amenophis on the backward 
journey in the foothills, ''Teddy Roos-felt" 
stumbled or shied at something and made me 
think of him. All of which proves that Shake- 



236 The Spell of Egypt 

speare was right, there's something in a name, 
and I was obliged to wait until we were back on 
the "Seti" before I could appreciate how much 
I should think of my ''audience" with a king of 
Egypt in the days that were to come. 




CHAPTEE XI 

IN THE GOLDEN" WASTE 

?ROM the time tlie First Cataract is reached 
at Assuan, the Nile and its surrounding 
landscape take on such forms that one be- 
lieves himself floating on other waters. The 
banks are lined with great granite cliffs, where 
the ancient kings sent their slaves to get the ma- 
terial for their eternal monuments further down 
the river, and big blue and black granite boulders 
constantly protrude their heads above the river, 
when, as now, the river is low. It is difficult to 
think of this stream as the home of the lotus, 
papyrus and the crocodile, all forms of life 
which one associates with low, sluggish streams 
and stagnant marshes where fever lurks and 
where vegetation forms a green scum over the 
face of the waters. Instead, there are rapids 
where the waters are lashed into white foam, 
now, of course, greatly diminished by the great 
dam, but visible all the same, and demanding 
good seamanship from the reis and pilot, whose 
task had seemed to be one of guesswork when 

237 



238 The Spell of Egypt 

the dahabiyeh was being steered around mud- 
banks and the sandbars of lower Egypt — or 
striking them which seemed to be as often the 
case. The water swirls, and there are little 
whirlpools which remind one of some miles be- 
low Niagara — although, of course, upon a much 
smaller scale. But it seems miraculous some- 
times, when the little boat would be sent to the 
bottom if it touched them. All here is rock and 
desert. The little land that once lay along the 
base of the cliffs, as in lower and upper Egypt, 
is now covered by the water that is thrown back 
from the dam. It is all restlessness and confu- 
sion where once had been calm. The river — the 
rocks, the desert, all in endless procession from 
Assuan to the big rock temple of Abou Simbel, 
and, even then, there is little vegetation below 
the Second Cataract at Wady-Halfa, where the 
railroad starts for Khartoum. 

There is no railroad between Assuan and 
Wady. Transportation is either by water along 
the treacherous and historic river or by caravan 
in the desert beyond. Here is one of the un- 
connected links in that monster railroad system 
that will connect Cairo with the Cape, and it is 
one of the links that will cause the engineers 
much trouble and entail great expense upon the 
builders, for while the swamps of equatorial 



In the Golden Waste 239 

Africa seem to be throwing out an almost im- 
penetrable barrier against the intrusion of the 
railway and its builders, mucb tunneling and 
many difficulties are met with in Nubia that 
cause the surveyor's heart to sink. 

Safely through the locks at Assuan, however, 
where the little boat is carried skyward between 
granite channels, one feels quickly repaid for the 
rather strenuous experience met with in twist- 
ings and turnings among the granite *'hard 
heads," which raise their black heads as if in 
defiance. Even upon these eternal rocks are 
cut deeply the cartouches of ancient kings, and 
there are other inscriptions which prove that 
the difficult passage must have been made by 
men in boats at a time when the world's civiliza- 
tion was in its crudest beginnings elsewhere. 
There are markings on the rocks which show 
Nubia to have been the most ancient of men's 
trails for gold and slaves. And it is interesting 
to observe that great blocks of granite were 
taken from the parent cliffs, hewn and polished 
— and sometimes carved — ^for shipment to 
Egypt, but never started on their perilous 
voyage down the Nile. Huge monoliths had 
been cut and brought to the river's edge, await- 
ing the big transports or barges, but the barges 
and transports never came. Perhaps the king's 



240 The Spell of Egypt 

— ♦ 

attention was turned to warfare. Perhaps he 
suddenly organized expeditions that required 
the services of his vassals and slaves. Or per- 
haps he was slain and his successors cared not 
for completing his ambitious schemes of beau- 
tification. 

The monuments and pillars are mute, but the 
Nile voyager sits upon the deck of his dahabiyeh 
in the dead stillness and constructs these ro- 
mances and tragedies of the ancient world for 
himself. There is none to contradict him, and 
by the time he reaches Assuan he is ready to 
believe that anything he can imagine is not be- 
yond the range of possibility. 

As we turned a curve in the river, an amazing 
sight greeted our eyes — one of the greatest 
sights in all the world — as if the lights in the 
theater had been suddenly extinguished and the 
curtain had suddenly risen upon a picture which 
we had waited since childhood to see. 

Here was Philse! Here was the temple of 
Isis, and not far away was ''Pharaoh's Bed," 
that unfinished temple of great pillars and mas- 
sive roof of huge stones, so beautifully carved 
and constructed that it gives the impression of 
being a toy-castle of reeds or lace, or a delicately 
sawed piece of sandalwood, like the spokes in an 
Oriental fan. After our boat was tied up to the 



In the Golden Waste 241 

bank, a felucca, tlie name given to the gondola- 
like boat with six rowers at Philae, came along- 
side, to take us to the temple for our visit, for 
this, unlike the others which we had visited, is in 
the water. The dam at Assuan has raised the 
current over its foundations and the waves now 
swirl into the sanctuaries where processions of 
priests once walked. The stream seems to flow 
almost laughingly and mockingly into the struc- 
ture. The temples seem to be floating, only they 
do not move. Here is fairyland — and a fairy- 
land that has endured for so many centuries that 
man has almost lost the reckoning. But now the 
water is causing the inevitable decay. It is 
creeping upward on the majestic pillars, causing 
them to look like a beautiful woman whose face 
is now stricken with a terrible disease of decay. 
Some day, when the other temples still rise to 
their original heights in the sun of the parched 
plains, Philae will have tottered over into the 
water and pass forever from the sight of man. 
The paintings and mural decorations are already 
showing signs of decay, and the green fungus 
of the Nile is slowly spreading its moldy form 
over gesticulating figures that seem almost to 
realize what is happening to them. Soon they 
must fall beneath the water — soon pass from the 
minds of the living. 



242 The Spell of Egypt 

The felucca is rowed into the entrance of the 
temple and makes its way slowly through the 
gloomy courts and chapels. This seems to be 
the worst desecration of all — ^but man must 
have the Nile water and the dam conserved it 
for his use. Food for men is more important 
than ancient temples. Therefore, poor Philse 
proudly raises its head, hut that head wears a 
look of despair. 

We lingered long amid these surroundings. 
There was no desire to go on, for we wanted to 
see the beautiful spectacle from every point of 
view. So we went ashore and sat on huge pil- 
lars of granite, now lying prostrate, our feet 
resting on slabs of stone that bore inscriptions 
in those strange characters, only few of which 
are decipherable to any but the student. 

As I sat there, as if he had risen from the yel- 
low sand of the desert, there came a man with 
handfuls of sand, which he permitted to sail 
away in the wind through his fingers, as he 
talked. He seemed to be scattering gold — ^but 
instead he was looking for silver. 

' ' Meester, he want his fortune ? " he asked, and 
I did not understand at first, but afterward he 
explained that he was a sand diviner — ^he told 
fortunes with the golden sand — and, afterward, 
the dragoman told me that this man has a repu- 



In the Golden Waste 243 

tation that extends far into the desert. Here, at 
last, was the genuine article, and not one of those 
fake fortune-tellers who haunt the sandy spots 
of Egypt much frequented by tourists. 

So he was engaged, and we settled down in 
the sand for a ''seance." The shilling that I 
gave him was buried in the sand, and various in- 
cantations were said over it, the diviner passing 
his hands over it as the mesmerist passes his 
hands when placing a subject under control. 
Then with the spot as a center, he drew a five- 
pointed star in the sand and sat back and was 
silent. Suddenly he sat upright, and in broken 
English talked so rapidly that he was difficult to 
understand, evidently wishing to convey the im- 
pression that it had all come to his mind in a 
flash. He told me how old I was to the day, that 
I lived in a foreign country, in a city by a body 
of water, how many persons usually sat at table 
with me at home, their ages, their height and 
their complexions, respectively, and he told me 
other things about friends and associates — and 
he located and described them to a nicety, every- 
thing excepting calling their names. It was all 
quite uncanny and mystifying. One would 
naturally say that he was "probably a glib talker 
and happened to strike the truth," but the sur- 
prising part of it to me was that in all his talk he 



244 The Spell of Egypt 

made no mistakes. It wasn't exactly a ''for- 
tune," for lie gave no advice, excepting to 
''beware of real estate investments" — ^wMch 
seemed quite unnecessary and sarcastic. And, 
when lie had finished, quite without ceremony, 
he dug his hand deep into the sand, pulled out 
the shilling and went his way. 

After awhile the felucca boys came back and 
took me from my granite perch by the shore. 
They were singing a song that was in a deeper 
minor key but suggested a few phrases of the 
Italian ' ' La Paloma. ' ' 

" It is about a lady in Nubia they are singing, ' ' 
interpreted the reis. 

I had heard that these boys could improvise 
songs, so I asked him to have them do so. While 
the result was rather confusing, it was interest- 
ing to hear them. They intoned something that 
they called a song, but sounded as if each were 
trying to make more noise than the other. It 
was about an aeroplane. "If a nail comes out 
it falls to the ground," interpreted the reis, and 
he explained that a French aviator had made the 
trip through the air from Cairo to Khartoum 
and had met with an accident near Philae that 
gave them the subject for their "topical song." 

Then, at the close, these Nubian youngsters, 
who were unable to speak any English words, 






">.,>''-'-^:- 



'J- 



.^^ \ 




SAND DIVINER TELLING A FORTUNE. 



In the Golden Waste 245 

beyond those which they had learned parrotlike, 
stood up and recited a jingle which some tourist 
had taught them. It was: **Very good, very 
nice, hip, hip, hooray, thank you, thank you." 
They intoned the words as if they were chanting, 
and in a key attempting unison, that made it 
seem verily that the time had come for Philae to 
fall into the river. 

But Philse did not fall, for it had often heard 
the same noises, and Philse had not fallen many 
days later when we greeted "Pharaoh's Bed" 
and the shrine of Isis on our passage down the 
river toward Cairo. 

Often we wished that we had lingered longer 
around Phil^'s shores, the very soil of which 
was once so sacred that only the feet of priests 
and royalty might touch it, for when we 
came again we reproached ourselves with the be- 
lief that we had become genuine "tourists to 
Egypt." We were flying along as fast as a 
dahabiyeh and the current of the stream could 
carry us. There were dozens of places visited 
on the upward voyage that we hoped to see 
again when we left them; but there was only 
one way out of the dilemma. Each one of us 
had particular places in mind, and, strangely 
enough, nobody's list corresponded to any one 
else^s list. One who decided that a single visit 



246 The Spell of Egypt 

to Abydos would be necessary, seemed to feel 
an imperative call toward the stately pile at 
Edfu ; but the other felt that in view of the delay 
in a certain schedule that our dragoman had 
arranged, we could easily dispense with another 
visit to Edfu, if we spent another day or two at 
Kamak. So we arrived at the conclusion that 
the program best suited to our collective desires, 
was to point the dahabiyeh northward at Wady- 
Halfa and permit it to drift lazily around the 
thousands of curves that would one day bring us 
back to the clump of palms by Old Cairo, whence 
we started. 

But I think that we regTetted passing Philse 
without stopping, more than any other place. 
Perhaps our feelings were tempered by sym- 
pathy, which, after all, is akin to admiration. 
The other monuments of Egypt seem to be so 
defiant of time and the elements. Man and 
races of men appear and depart, but they con- 
tinue to stand, gleaming in the sunlight. But 
poor Phil^ seems to sit with bowed head. Man 
has discovered a destructive agency even in this 
land of eternity, and of all places on earth where 
man's requirements seemed to be a dam that 
would water the sands this perhaps should have 
been the last. Yet Philae was the victim, and 
obliged to pay with her life that men might live. 



^ In the Golden Waste 247 

Philse must pass away. Some fortunate chance 
might bring us again to Egypt many years from 
now, and we knew that the other stately piles 
that were standing long before the beginning of 
our era would be still standing, erect and defiant. 
They would be there when our children and chil- 
dren's children make their voyages to Egypt. 
But with Philae it would be quite another story, ^ 
and we gazed upon its sacred face as friends j 
take their final look at the dead. 

Excepting to one who likes to bathe himself ^ 
in the sunshine of Nubia, the Nile voyage above ■ 
Philse is rather disappointing and dreary by 
comparison with the passage of the lower river. 
At the Second Cataract there is Wady-Halfa, a 
half modern city of no interest to an Egyptian 
voyager beyond the fact that here may be ob- 
served a further blending of the races and racial 
colours and characteristics. One may like to 
visit a native market here, invest in the ' 'genu- 
ine" Abyssinian and Sudanese relics that are 
offered by every street beggar encountered. It 
is even possible to make oneself believe that he 
is making "bargains" in ostrich feathers and 
pretty bead-work, some of which is made in 
Nubia and some of which has made a long voyage 
from Germany. But one usually finds that it is 
better to purchase ostrich feathers at home; 



248 The Spell of Egypt 

better to confine souvenir purchases to a few 
scarabs, wMch are likelier to be genuine if pur- 
chased in Cairo. 

' ' "Wady, " as it is commonly known in this part 
of the world, has a few temple ruins and several 
points of interest to the thorough tourist. It 
was once an outpost of empire and bears many 
traces of ancient civilization; but these have 
been noticed all along the river in recent days, 
even if they do not assume the grandeur of 
others not so remote. One may go out into what 
seems to be the desert and find himself in a 
castor-oil plantation, and one sees many natives 
who seem to have been bathed in the product of 
that plant which here assumes the proportion of 
a tree. There is an interesting and constantly 
changing scene along the river front, for Wady 
is an important shipping point for Nile boats, 
and everything seems to be done in as primitive 
fashion as in that day when a king residing at 
Thebes sent his army to collect tribute from the 
people of the golden soil. 

We had but one stopping-place between PhilsB 
and Wady that will be retained in memory as in 
after days we think of our Nile voyage and its 
principal incidents. The other days were given 
over to that intoxicating floating on calm waters 
that although one feels abashed at the admission 



In the Golden Waste 249 

afterwards, becomes little more than night's 
repose and days of continued siestas. 

One night we moored the dahabiyeh at the 
feet of four gigantic gentlemen of stone, or more 
correctly, perhaps, at the feet of four colossal 
stone images of the same gentleman. We were 
at the wonderful temple of Abu Simbel. Old 
Eameses II did not intend that his praises should 
go unsung even in Nubia, nor that any of his 
brilliant deeds should go unrecorded. So in 
commemoration of his victory in Syria, he built 
the largest and finest monument in Nubia. Per- 
haps in Egypt there is nothing on a more gigan- 
tic scale, nothing more stupendous in conception 
and brilliant in execution ; but compared to some 
of the lacy structures we have recently seen 
this temple impresses us as being merely awe- 
inspiring and gigantic. It lacks much of that 
intimacy possessed by so many of the others. It 
has not that compelling capacity for provoking 
thoughts of the past. One sees it as he might 
look at Brooklyn bridge or a forty-story sky- 
scraper. One admires the originator of the 
idea and the mentality that brought it to accom- 
plishment, just as one observes with pleasure the 
man who can juggle cannon balls or balance 
feathers on his nose. It was an achievement 
that makes man proud that it was built by crea- 



250 The Spell of Egypt 

tures of a similar species. But it is cold and 
unresponsive, and perhaps it has appeared to be 
so to men long before us, for while it was doubt- 
less built in the midst of a large community, it 
stands quite deserted today, unless the sellers of 
souvenirs know that tourists are coming, when 
they seem to spring up from the sands, laden 
with the spurious and the curious, mostly the 
former. 

There are in reality two temples at Abu Sim- 
bel, but the lesser one which was dedicated to 
Hathor by Eameses and his wife does not detain 
travelers long. The real object of interest is 
the Great Temple, which is hewn out of the rock 
to a depth of one hundred and eighty-five feet, 
and the surface of the rock, which probably 
originally sloped down to the river, was cut 
away for about ninety square feet to form the 
front which is ornamented with the four colos- 
sal statues which are seated on thrones and ap- 
pear to be detached from the rock but are a part 
of it. The statues themselves are about sixty- 
six feet in height. 

Travelers arrange to be at Abu Simbel in 
the morning, and we were no exceptions. It is 
then that the sun flames through the massive 
portal, over which there is a figure of the hawk- 
headed god twenty feet high, and lights the inner 



In the Golden Waste 251 

cliamber of the great sanctuary as it will not be 
lighted again until another dawning. The mas- 
sive hall inside is supported by eight pillars and 
the sides are covered with series of paintings de- 
picting the exploits of Barneses. Truly Barne- 
ses was a wonderful man even at twenty-three, 
for he is seen here disdaining all advice and 
plunging into the midst of the enemy in his char- 
iot of war and slaying them by hundreds, single- 
handed. There are wonderful tales related on 
these walls, and the scholars have been able to 
translate all of them, as they relate to the lead- 
ing gentleman of Egypt. 

We felt no keen regrets as we left Abu Sim- 
bel at noon, however, for we knew that we would 
see plenty of portraits in granite of the great 
monarch again, even behold the mummy of the 
man himself, and some way, one does not feel in 
regard to him as a thoughtful traveler must feel 
when he sees the other mummies of Egypt's 
kings. 

They spent their lives preparing a place where 
after death they would be safe from the eye of 
man, but man has pried in upon their solitude, 
disturbed their sleep and exposed them to the 
rude stares and comments of the thoughtless 
tribes of the world. Eameses II prepared his 
hiding-place as did the others. Perhaps he 



252 The SpeU of Egypt 

could not have departed far enough from the 
custom to have done otherwise. Still, however, 
one imagines that the sublime old egotist and 
prince of advertisers would have felt no regret 
if he could have known how men of other nations 
cross the seas to gaze upon his works in these 
latter days, and how they stand before his pros- 
trate body in awe. Perhaps he can see what is 
transpiring, and, if this be possible, one cannot 
conceive of a greater joy than would be his, 
knowing that the world has wheeled on for cen- 
turies since they laid him in his tomb, yet he 
remains, and Egypt is littered with the monu- 
ments which he caused to be erected in his own 
honour, that the puny men of the present may 
still admire. 




CHAPTER XII 

WHEEE EAST MEETS WEST 

^HE khedival capital city is "Egypt" to 
most of the travelers who conie to the land 
of the Pharaohs in season. Some of the 
fashionables venture up the Nile for a glance at 
the temples and tombs, but the tourist agencies 
say that they have a difficult time of it to entice 
the majority of their trade up country, and they 
offer all sorts of accommodations to encourage 
the ''luxury" of Nile travel, incidentally con- 
veying the impression that they are really selling 
the river, instead of merely issuing a ticket 
for one to ride on a boat upon it. The majority 
of people settle down in one of the fashionable 
and expensive hotels in Cairo and soon become 
so fascinated by the city that they decide to stay 
where they can ''enjoy all the comforts of 
home," and still when venturing to the street be- 
hold all the glare and glitter of Oriental life. 
For, although it may seem trite, Cairo is the 
meeting-place of the East and the "West. No 
other city in the world is so cosmopolitan, and 

253 



254 The Spell of Egypt 

none is likely to wrest from it its distinguishing 
honour. In Cairo it is possible for the Hindu to 
live as he lives at home, eat the food that he is 
used to eating, and here he may wear the cloth- 
ing that he wears on his native streets, without 
exciting even a casual glance from passers-by; 
and the same thing is true of the American or 
Persian, Englishman or Afghanistanee, Italian 
or Sumatran, Greek or Norwegian. Here is the 
largest city of the Arab world, and it is a 
metropolis worthy of the name. 

All the nations of the world come and go 
through Cairo. Sit on the terrace of Shep- 
heard's at tea time and one will see more na- 
tionalities in an hour and hear more of a Babel 
of tongues than he had previously believed 
existed in all the world. They walk and they 
drive and nobody seems to understand the lan- 
guage of any one else — excepting the black boy 
in the hotels, who serves as a sort of general in- 
terpreter. He seems to speak every language 
under the sun and he rarely makes a mistake 
when first addressing a newcomer. He can tell 
from the "looks," this fellow with little silver 
rings in the top lobes of his ears, and he must 
patiently hear the complaints of men as widely 
different in nationality and language as the 
waters of the sea ; but he seems to know how to 



Where East Meets West 255 

understand, or pretend to understand, and he 
takes it that he must administer to the ease and 
comfort of every one. 

Perhaps it is chiefly this ease and comfort that 
attracts the world to Cairo. Instinctively, the 
world likes to he waited upon, and if there is a 
place under the sun where more menial tasks are 
performed for the human beings who have the 
money to pay for "service," I have never heard 
of it. Where else would one find black boys 
perched beside European ladies, swishing the 
flies away from them as they sit indolently in 
reclining chairs and do not wish to venture to 
perform the exertion for themselves? Where 
else on earth would a man who rode a horse have 
a boy to go behind it, at the pace chosen by the 
man, for the purpose of doing the whipping or 
the "whoa-ing"? In Egypt it might take too 
much of a gentleman's strength to use a spur or 
wave a whip, so he has a servant to perform the 
task for him. I saw a perfectly healthy man 
dressed in European clothes, but whose com- 
plexion proved that he was a native, strutting 
along the highway, followed not three feet be- 
hind by a black pigmy or dwarf, who was dressed 
in a giddy uniform of red muslin and gold braid. 
The little fellow had a hard time of it to keep up 
with his master, and it took some toddling for his 



256 The Spell of Egypt 

short legs, but when the gentleman stopped to 
speak to a friend, he took off his tarboosh, 
handed it to the dwarf to hold, and the little fel- 
low handed him a big handkerchief to wipe off 
his perspiring forehead. Verily, I believe that 
if the brown gentleman had come to a rut in the 
pavement, the little black man would have been 
expected to prostrate himself and fill it, so that 
his master might have stepped upon his body; 
and saved some exertion. 

Some of these things seem very absurd to the 
newcomer, but perhaps they are '^necessary.'* 
At least that is the answer I have had when I 
ventured any opinion of these things which ap- 
peared to be strange to my eyes. It is not wise 
for a stranger to criticize anything in a strange 
land. Likely as not, a forty-eight hour visit will 
convince him of his folly. The lady of Cairo 
who rides out in her carriage is preceded by her 
^ ' seis ' ' or two of them, although this custom is 
not considered so "smart" as formerly. They 
are usually dressed in resplendent costumes, and 
look ' ' showy ' ' as they run along to clear the way 
for the horses. Whether or not milady is a 
humanitarian and is afraid that her horses* 
hoofs may trample upon poor barefooted pedes- 
trians in the narrow streets, I am unable to say ; 
but I rather believe, after observing many of 



Where East Meets West 257 

these turnouts, that much more thought is di- 
rected to whether there will he a delay to the 
carriage in the crowded streets. 

In Cairo the khedive rides out daily in a 
French automobile, and many of the aristocracy 
have adopted the new style machine which goes 
skimming along the highways ; hut the beautiful 
span of Arab horses, the screened carriage, the 
flashily attired seis, coachman and eunuch are 
still preferred by the socially elect — and some 
way they seem to fit in better with one 's precon- 
ceived ideas of what Cairo ought to be. 

Automobiles and camels! They enter and 
cross Cairo, side by side, just as the East meets 
West in the Ezbekiyah. The girl from Montana 
touches elbows with the gentleman from Abys- 
sinia. But everything here seems to have been 
^' fused." On the surface of things, black, 
brown, yellow and white men seem to be social 
equals in Cairo. The whites, who are always 
talking about being ''particular" at home, soon 
become so that they do not mind it here. It is 
all so quiet, so sublimely easy and comfortable, 
that men learn to forget their little prejudices, 
and if they have a cool drink, a servant to fan 
them, a wicker chair and a palm-tree 's shade, or, 
better still, the thick green of a mimosa or ban- 
yan, they forget everything^ and at least imagine 



258 The Spell of Egypt 

that they are satisfied. They care not whether 
there be a ruined temple at Abydos. Let the 
antiquarians take care of that ! They care not 
whether or not Amenophis still sleeps in his tomb 
at Thebes. There are enough people to journey 
up there to see an old munnny in a hole in the 
ground. Cairo is Egypt for them, and for a 
large number of people who travel this way. 

We returned to Cairo early one Sunday morn- 
ing when the city was still asleep — if Cairo may 
be said ever to go to sleep. We watched it begin 
to rise, and best of all, we had arrived in Cairo 
on a holiday, for while Egypt is a Mohammedan 
country, nominally, where the sabbath falls on 
Friday, the English governors seem to have 
turned the Christian sabbath into a weekly holi- 
day for the natives. Most of the stores and 
places of business are closed on that day and the 
population seems to take to its favourite sports. 
As the day progressed and then declined into 
evening, we saw the motley throng making merry 
in its several ways — and it was a sight never to 
be forgotten. 'Orientals hate to work, and see 
nothing to be gained from work. They love to 
play, and are so easily amused that one marvels 
at them in their enthusiasm over a game of 
dominoes, checkers, or even a promenade. Best 
of all, they seem to love to sit by the hour and 



Where East Meets West 259 

talk. If some one is present to talk back, all 
right and good ; hut if not, they sit just the same 
and seem to he just as happyl\ 

In common with other observers I have spoken 
of the apparent fusing of the races in the city on 
the Nile, but this fusing process is merely on the 
surface. Egypt and the Western world which 
comes here to pay^ a visit, are as different as 
black and white.^- The history of the Egyptians 
has been that, crush them and conquer them re- 
peatedly, make their government repeatedly 
what you will, you cannot change the people. 
They are different in all essentials from the 
people who come within their gates. They are 
gentle and tolerant, but they assume this man- 
ner either because they have good manners and 
recognize their position in the world, or they are 
not yet ready to act differently; but they are 
people with little in common with Europeans and 
they do not care to approach the similarity. A 
wide gulf divides them from visitors to whom 
they are hospitable. There are barriers which 
the diplomats can never hope to remove. First 
of all, they are Mohammedans, and their visitors 
seem to be chiefly from Christian countries. 
Egyptians are Africans and their guests are 
not. 

But one finds no evidence of knowledge of 



260 The SpeU of Egypt 

these differences in Egypt or in the streets of 
Cairo. Egyptians step from the pavement to 
the roadway for visitors to pass. They are 
humble in service. Once I saw an American put 
a fez on his head and direct his dragoman to tell 
some Nile rivermen that he was an English offi- 
cer and wanted them to back up and let his da- 
habiyeh over a sandbar, where he might have re- 
mained for many hours, owing to the better posi- 
tion of the other boats. They bowed to the in- 
evitable without a word of complaint and poled 
their boats back down the stream, allowing him 
to pass, although they may have lost a couple of 
days in so doing. They are dreamers, but they 
are also philosophers. Once they ruled the 
world, and who can tell what may happen in the 
future fj 

Cairo is now lighted with electric lights, and 
automobiles hum around its principal streets. 
Yet step off one of the principal streets into the 
bazars or narrow thoroughfares where the 
people live and it is the Middle Ages, the first 
century of the Christian era or much older. It 
is the city of sublime contrasts which is perhaps 
an explanation of the '^ spell" that it weaves 
around its visitors. It is a combination of the 
oldest and newest — and it has been that for a 
thousand years. 



Where East Meets West 261 

Perhaps the first thing that strikes the 
stranger from the West in the streets of Cairo is 
that the male population of this metropolis 
seems to have nothing to do but loiter about, 
smoke, drink and talk. About half of the central 
portion of the city seems to be given over to 
cafes. There are literally thousands of little 
cane-seated chairs around little marble-topped 
tables and from shortly after sunrise until 
nearly midnight there seems to be a ''paying 
business." And the gentlemen here seem to be 
the men of affairs of Cairo. They are well- 
dressed, and, on the whole, are very good-look- 
ing citizens, but they have an air of indolent in- 
difference that is wholly foreign to our way of 
doing things. Some of them read papers, and 
others sit as if half asleep and dream. In front 
of most of the places of business of all sorts 
these chairs and tables and occupants of them 
will be found. There may be no cafe for half a 
block, but waiters come running when a new- 
comer arrives, and the speed with which they 
serve is about the only fast moving thing I have 
seen in Egypt. The whole world seems to be 
sitting around talking it over. Even the public 
breathing-places in the various sections of the 
city are filled with chairs and tables, as are the 
parks and even the vacant lots. Sometimes 



o 



262 The Spell of Egypt 

these open spaces are attractively fitted up with 
gigantic Oriental curtains, whicli make some- 
thing like a tent, and even the high walls of the 
adjoining buildings are covered with great 
tapestry-looking cloth of Persian designs. 
There are a few canopies and there are bright 
lights at night. 

I ventured into one of the larger of these meet- 
ing-places or cafes, soon after my arrival. The 
crowd was enormous — it seemed that at least a 
thousand men were seated at the tables, and that 
another thousand were trying to find places to 
be seated. But most of the places are taken 
soon after dinner and remain so for many hours. 
Groups of men sitting near me drank glass after 
glass of water into which they dropped loaf 
sugar, or a few drops of fruit syrup. Some 
were served to a gelatin concoction that looked 
much like huge ''gum drops," over which pow- 
dered sugar had been sprinkled. Others nibbled 
at slices of oranges served on little dishes about 
the size of ''butter plates" at home. Some 
puffed cigarettes and others ordered large 
narghiles, removed their slippers from bare or 
stockinged feet and squatted on the small chairs 
in what we call ' ' tailor fashion. ' ' 

And they talked and talked ! 

Magicians came along and gave little private 



Where East Meets West 263 

entertainments at single tables before six or 
eight persons, and seemed to be pleased if they 
collected two cents for their work. There were 
sword-swallowers, men who palmed playing 
cards, and men who made guinea pigs disappear 
into the air. There were pipe players and tom- 
tom players and acrobats who performed in the 
road, for the tables are often set into the middle 
of the highway, so that pedestrians and donkeys 
or camels find it difficult to pass around '' popu- 
lar" comers. Men passed among the crowd 
with plates of shrimps and did a thriving busi- 
ness. Others offered the most outlandish arti- 
cles for sale, most of which were carefully in- 
spected by the frequenters of the tables, as if 
they were afraid of missing a bargain, and the 
appearance of a horde of ''merchants" in the 
restaurants and cafes seemed to occasion no sur- 
prise. One man actually came up to my table, 
his arms filled with Hawaiian pineapples in big 
tin cans. Another offered big fly-screens for 
platters or large dishes ; another glass tumblers ; 
another hair combs, tooth brushes and safety 
pins. 

I saw a man whose arms were filled with large 
pasteboard boxes, deposit his load upon the table 
before six or eight men, talk to them a little, and 
then take out a tape measure, guarantee a per- 



264 The Spell of Egypt 

feet fit to one of tlie men and sell Mm a suit of 
light underwear. Man came along with per- 
forming apes and monkeys, and played the flute 
as the animals danced and passed the hat for a 
collection. Men peddled rugs and shawls, tar- 
booshes, cigarettes, stamps, writing-paper and 
post-cards. PubKc letter-writers came along 
and offered to write one's "post" — as they call 
it. It seemed that if one sat at one of these 
tables long enough, all of the merchandise of the 
East and West, and all of the articles known to 
men for personal comfort would ultimately pass 
before him. And the really remarkable thing 
about it all was that the peddlers seemed to find 
purchasers for their goods, many of which were 
not exactly what one would expect to find near 
his table at a restaurant. 

As I emerged from the cafe with its eternal 
litter of tables and chairs and loudly talking 
individuals, I soon found myself in the center 
of other cafes; for, during the hour that had 
passed, other chairs had been placed on the wide 
sidewalk and far into the gutter, leaving only a 
small passageway for pedestrians and vehicles in 
the middle of the road. The din was frightful. 
It seemed that there must be a riot, but close in- 
spection proved that the noise all came from gen- 
tle conversationalists who were perhaps dis- 




PUBLIC LETTER-WRITER, CAIRO. 



Where East Meets West 265 

cussing the weather, or politics, and the hawkers 
of goods. But in the midst of it all, there was 
something that reminded me of riot. A large 
gong sounded and the roadway was cleared. 
Men arose from the tables and shoved their 
chairs back to allow a free passage to the coming 
vehicle. It was certainly an emergency call of 
some kind. But it was a strange one. Two men 
riding bicycles closely abreast, were carrying a 
plank between them. Strapped to the plank was 
a man who lay quietly and the men pedaled 
along as fast as they could. It was the ambu- 
lance, and a patient was being removed to the 
hospital. 

I thought that all the people in Cairo, or at 
least a large percentage of the male population, 
was ''resting" in the street cafes, but when I 
arrived at the big public garden in the center of 
the city I saw that I had been mistaken. All the 
people were there, too. The benches were filled 
— and they were everywhere — and people were 
squatting in the shade of every tree or bush. 
Every one here was "resting" excepting the 
members of a big brass band of perhaps sixty 
musicians, who were perspiring and noisily of- 
fering a program of Arabic music. Now, to the 
Occidental all Arabic tunes sound much alike. 
It is quite tolerable, when the flutes and tom- 



266 The Spell of Egypt 

toms play it for the dancers, even deligMful 
when sung in the fields by the labouring classes, 
by the man in the desert who plods along beside 
his camel through the hot wilderness, and really 
enchanting as it proceeds from a different boat 
on the Nile at night ; but too much of anything is 
likely to be annoying. And if there is anything 
on earth worse than a big brass band and drums 
bleating and blasting the walls and thumps and 
bangs of Arabia, Persia, Turkey and Egypt, I 
have not heard it, nor of it. Try to imagine a 
hundred pigs squealing in a boiler shop working 
at full blast, and permit a foghorn or fire-tug 
siren to speak a '* theme" occasionally, and you 
will have some idea of what the band concert was 
like in the Ezbekiyah gardens. But, of course, 
it was my ignorance of the beauties of Arabic 
music. The conductor of the band waved his 
baton just as gracefully and frantically as Sousa 
ever did and he turned the pages of a ''score," 
which proved that there were actually notes writ- 
ten down on paper that, played, produced the 
unearthly sounds. The people applauded and 
seemed to be pleased, as they sat back and sipped 
sugared water and smoked cigarettes. It costs 
but two and one-half cents to enter the Ezbe- 
kiyah gardens and sit beside big pools of cool 
water in which pond lilies are forever blooming j 



Where East Meets West 267 

where the acacia and banyan trees make the air 
cool on the hottest day; where the band plays 
and where the motion picture show is free. Also 
there is a big inclosure cemented for roller skat- 
ing, and there are little pools where the children 
float tiny dahabiyehs, as little children float their 
sailboats in the lakes of the parks at home. 

Toward noon, as the sun becomes too hot for 
comfort in the open, the crowd at the cafes and 
squatting-places becomes thinner. Every one 
goes home and sleeps until the cool of the day. 
Waiters pile the thousands of chairs upon the 
little tables and people who walk or vehicles have 
a less impeded passage through the streets. 
But about four o'clock in the afternoon the 
chairs are put back on the ground, the crowd 
quickly assembles again, the band plays in the 
gardens and everything seems to be noise and 
confusion again until late at night. And one's 
natural reflection is that these people are ask- 
ing themselves: ''Why work?" The people 
of Cairo have a fairly prosperous and gener- 
ally healthy appearance. Perhaps the poorer 
classes do not have many luxuries, but why 
spend one's life in a rush and stampede for 
luxuries, when it is so easily possible to sit still, 
talk and drink coffee a la Turque or sweet 
water? 



268 The Spell of Egypt 

Even at places where actual business is trans- 
acted in Cairo the hours are short. OflScials and 
clerks in the government offices go to work at 
nine o'clock and quit at one o'clock. *'My 
brother is a gentleman," said an Egyptian 
dragoman to me, '^he goes to work at nine 
o'clock and he's through at one." Stores, 
banks and offices are practically closed for about 
three hours around noon, for every one expects 
to be at home at that time, either sleeping or 
lying down. Some of the stores pull down the 
window-shades and lock the doors until five 
o'clock, just as they do at night. Then they 
open again at five and remain open until six — 
calling it a day at that time. There are in- 
numerable holidays in addition to the three sab- 
baths of every week. Egypt is Mohammedan, 
so Friday is the official sabbath. There is a 
large population of orthodox Jews who keep 
Saturday. Sunday is the Christian sabbath and 
every one takes a holiday and little business is 
transacted. Jews help Mohammedans celebrate 
holidays and Mohammedans help the Christians. 
It seems to be any excuse at all for a rest ; and 
if there 's no excuse, people just take it anyway. 




CHAPTER XIII 

VISITING ''holy places" 

^NE of the spots that appeals to the senti- 
ment of about all the people in the world, 
irrespective of religious beliefs, is the 
stone wall that protects the bank where Pha- 
raoh's daughter found Moses in the bulrushes. 
Accordingly, it was one of the first places I vis- 
ited when I started out to see the ''sights" of 
Cairo. The bulrushes have disappeared, it 
is true, and one goes a long way up the Nile 
before finding anything that suggests the lotus 
or rush, both of which once flourished in 
lower Egypt and made such an impression upon 
the ancient people that they carved them upon 
the stone pillars of their temples, thus hop- 
ing to assure them of immortality; but there is 
apparently little doubt in the minds of the sci- 
entists and archeologists as to the authenticity 
of the exact spot at which the great lawgiver was 
discovered in his little floating cradle by the 
princess who was going into the water to bathe. 
There is considerable disagreement concerning 

269 



270 The Spell of Egypt 

the identity of the exact Pharaoh who was reign- 
ing at the time, for the gentleman to whom the 
distinction is given by leading Egyptologists 
now reposes in the Cairo museum, whither he 
was transferred from his tomb; and this does 
not at all agree with the Biblical account of his 
having been drowned with his hosts in the Eed 
Sea. But it seems to be thoroughly established 
that the royal palace at the time was situated on 
the island of Ehoda, which is not more than a 
twenty-minute drive from the present city of 
Cairo. The palms still wave in the big garden, 
and the banks of the Nile are walled up with 
ancient stones, giving the place a tropical and 
luxuriant appearance even from a distance. 
But all traces of the palace are gone. The place 
is still called ''Pharaoh's garden," but the visi- 
tor finds little beyond the name to suggest to him 
the environs of a royal dwelling. But as we 
have seen frequently enough, the old kings of 
Egypt thought much more of a life in the great 
hereafter than they did of life on earth. Per- 
haps they lived in mud houses, only a little better 
than those seen today, and their energies were 
expended upon tombs and temples which should 
live after they were gone and show to the world 
that they were thinking of immortality. 

One goes first to what is called Old Cairo, a 



Visiting *^Holy Places'^ 271 

thickly settled, narrow-streeted section, where 
the buildings creak with age, and yet which the 
archeologists say are as of yesterday compared 
to the ruins upon which they rest. Cairo itself, 
particularly that section referred to in the vicin- 
ity of Ehoda Island, is upon the site of very 
ancient cities — one of which, at least, the city of 
Fustat, was famous in its day, a city that was 
said to contain one thousand two hundred and 
seventy public baths. Once it was celebrated as 
a city both populous and filthy, but withal a very 
religious community; and I thought of ancient 
Fustat, which a conquering general said it took 
ten thousand torches to bum, and fifty days for 
the conflagration, when I arrived at Old Cairo. 
A carriage deposited me on the bank of the Nile 
about nine o'clock in the morning. The same 
crowds of talking and smoking men that one 
finds in the newer city were here, squatting on 
the ground, sitting on stones and leaning against 
walls of the river-bank. Going down a stone in- 
cline in which notches had been carved to 
*'hold" the bare feet of the natives who come 
here to fill their water jars and bathe, I boarded 
a "ferry," on which travelers to Ehoda are car- 
ried across stream by an old man who slowly 
poles his craft and charges five cents for the 
round trip. The ferry is little more than a raft 



272 The Spell of Egypt 

with a point in imitation of a bow, and the pas- 
sengers stand during the slow journey, along 
with donkeys, market-women with their hampers 
of fruit and vegetables, and other personalities 
of a strange crowd. 

Pharaoh's garden is approached by a similar 
incline in the stone wall of the river-bank. You 
scramble up this, if you wear shoes, and if very 
careful, need not slip down more than once or 
twice. It is muddy and wet from the bare feet 
of the natives who have come down here to bathe 
— even as did Pharaoh's daughter, and all the 
sons and daughters of all Nile dwellers since her 
time, for of all the people in the world the Nile 
folk seem to be the most frequent bathers. Mo- 
hammedans must wash before they pray, and as 
they pray five times a day, as the Nile is their 
only source of water supply, as there are over 
eleven millions of inhabitants in Egypt, and as 
there are very few bathtubs, it goes to reason 
that the Nile banks are very busy water resorts, 
where the ablutionists do not feel the necessity of 
donning bathing suits. 

But tradition says that Pharaoh's daughter 
bathed on the other side of the little island, 
where there is now a wall and no landing place, 
so I walked along through narrow avenues of 
palms, acacias and banyan trees — avenues 




RHODA ISLAND. TRADITIONAL SPOT WHERE MOSES WAS 
FOUND. 



Visiting **Holy Places'^ 273 

where it is said that Moses paced up and down 
when he was praying for the deliverance of 
Israel. It is a beautiful spot. The island sits 
out in the river like a huge flatiron with its point 
upstream. Even on this hot morning, there was 
a wind from the water which waved the plumes 
of the palms. The site is one that commands a 
view of the river, both up and down stream. 
It was an ideal spot for a palace — an ideal loca- 
tion for an ancient king who could sit in the 
garden and observe whatever was taking place 
on the river. As I wandered along, the silence 
was twice broken, first by a turkey gobbler, who 
made the most American sound that I had heard 
for months, and by a woman's voice. She spoke 
in Arabic and I did not understand what she 
said, but she held out a handful of large and 
juicy apricots, from a basket which she was fill- 
ing from a tree that stood near the walk. I ac- 
cepted the gift, gave her five cents, and she gave 
me her blessing. 

When I reached the place which the world ac- 
cepts as the ''exact spot" where little Moses was 
floating, I found it already occupied by one who 
had come earlier than I. A boy was driving two 
blindfolded oxen around in a monotonous circle, 
raising water from the river in big earthen jars, 
which dumped it into a ditch, whence it flowed 



274 The SpeU of Egypt 

in a tiny stream to the apricot trees and kept 
them from withering and dying. The oxen kept 
on grinding their squeaking wheel, but the boy 
jumped from the sakieh and shared the apricots 
with me when I invited him to do so. We spoke 
a different language so I could not tell him that 
I was proud to do so, but I felt it an honour to 
make him my ''guest." Here he was, a half- 
naked little urchin, probably earning about two 
cents a day for his dizzying toil, as he followed 
the oxen around the circle and saw to it that they 
kept moving. Dumb oxen ! And yet dumb ani- 
mals will not perform such labour if they are 
permitted to see what they are doing, so rags 
and "blinders" are put over their eyes. Only 
men and the children of men must do so to keep 
alive. And yet this little chap was the sole oc- 
cupant of one of the most celebrated spots in all 
the earth ! But it meant nothing to him and he 
cared not. Perhaps he did not know; perhaps 
he had never heard of Moses. At any rate, his 
work was of much more importance to him than 
the fact that men came thousands of miles to put 
their feet in the ground where his sakieh was 
slowly turning to water the trees. He grabbed 
a half-dozen apricots, seemed to be frightened, 
as if he were stealing something, and then 
jumped back on the pole and whipped the oxeii 



Visiting "Holy Places'* 275 

so that they would go faster and make up for 
lost time. 

It was the coolest and most delightful spot 
that I had found in Cairo, this shady island out 
in the river — and who can say that a Pharaoh 
did not find it so ages ago, when the great-grand- 
parents of these stately palms were waving their 
fronds over the river? Who can say that for 
that reason he did not decide to build his palace 
there and make the place the center of his king- 
dom, which caused the world to tremble 1 

I sat in the shade and recalled those romances 
of ancient Fustat by George Ebers, the Egyp- 
tologist. In that day there were stately barges 
on the river, and stately princesses lounged upon 
their decks as they were rowed along the stream 
by African slaves, anointed with the perfumes of 
Arabia and fanned by long ostrich feathers from 
Nubia. The day before I had talked with an old 
friend and associate of Ebers and perhaps this 
brought back the recollection of those thrilling 
days when the romances of ancient Egypt were 
read for the first time. 

But my thought of romances was not for long. 
A teacher came along with his crowd of boys, 
who stationed themselves near me under another 
tree. The boys were learning passages from the 
Koran, which seems to be the principal branch of 



276 The Spell of Egypt 

study with Mohammedan boys, and each boy 
seemed to be trying to intone his text a little 
louder than the boy next to him. Here again 
was the noisy East. Here another of those in- 
comprehensible things to the occidental mind. 
But the teacher seemed to be satisfied, and sat 
back listlessly reading a book, while the hubbub 
continued about him, so I realized that I was the 
intruder, not they, and again I sought the incline 
and slipped and slid down the passageway to the 
ferry, where the old man was waiting for me — 
and incidentally for his five cents, which he does 
not receive until he has given a passenger a 
round trip on his ancient raft. Men were filling 
their goatskins with water, others were bathing, 
and women were filling water jars. After all — 
perhaps Ehoda has not changed so much since 
that day that has made it celebrated in history. 
Within one hour after I left the place where 
the mother of Moses hid her little son in an 
**ark" made of bulrushes, so that the crocodiles 
would not get him — ^because crocodiles were not 
believed to molest anything in bulrushes, and the 
idea is frequently represented in Egyptian art 
as relating to the hiding of sacred personages — 
I visited three places that are holy to the follow- 
ers of three religions. Perhaps the fact would 
not have appealed to me as it did, but for the. 



Visiting ^^Holy Places" 277 

popular impression that Cairo is an nnholy, 
rather than a city for holy pilgrimage. Yet here 
almost within a stone 's throw of one another are 
three shrines, and all along the narrow streets 
are what correspond to ' ' tenement houses ' ' ; low 
structures of stone which extend for whole 
streets, which are rented to visiting pilgrims, 
who represent the three religions best known to 
the Western world. 

The trouble with holy places is that frequently 
after one has made his pilgrimage, and enjoyed 
all of the mental sensations that come from visit- 
ing spots that are hallowed because of sacred or 
historic figures, he learns an hour later that his- 
tory is all wrong ; a new historian has arisen who 
will not accept things as they appear to be and 
have been for centuries. Perhaps he is a man 
who presents such conclusive arguments that one 
cannot consider him entirely wrong. So one 
goes on to the next place hoping for better re- 
sults. But the three places mentioned are 
marked with many signs of almost conclusive 
evidence. 

Perhaps one of the three has almost passed 
into decline, and is today almost deserted, but it 
still retains a firm hold upon the devotees of Ma- 
homet, and there is much about it that separates 
it from the other similar places of worship, so 



278 The Spell of Egypt 

numerous around the city. To the Christian, 
the most interesting place in Cairo is the crypt of 
the little Coptic church, built over what was 
probably a dwelling where the Mother of Jesus 
rested with her infant son when they came to 
Egypt to escape the persecutions of Herod. 
Tradition says that they resided here about three 
months. The orthodox Jew thinks most of the 
small Jewish church near by, which marks the 
spot where Moses prayed for the deliverance of 
Israel. The Mohammedan turns to the Mosque 
of Amr, a little further down the road ; and he 
turns with a belief that it is sacred above other 
mosques in the city, and has become so fanatical 
in some of his practices and zeal at this point, 
that the government has been obliged to step in 
and make regulations that prevent people from 
doing things that are likely to be injurious to the 
public health and safety. For example, iron 
bars have been placed in front of a small stone 
recess, so that it cannot be reached. The belief 
exists among Mohammedans that persons who 
are ill and go here and rub their tongues against 
the stone wall until they bleed, will be miracu- 
lously healed. The stone has two deeply worn 
trenches that are still smattered with blood 
stains. There are two pillars in the mosque set 
about six or seven inches apart. Good Moham- 



Visiting ^^Holy Places" 279 

medans wlio are assured of Paradise are able to 
squeeze between the pillars; while the person 
who cannot, had better mend his ways before 
death overtakes him. Quite naturally, this place 
led to all sorts of quarrels, and naturally gave 
thin persons a big advantage over the stout ones, 
so the government has placed iron bars around 
both pillars and the space between, thus leaving 
the question of future bliss to be settled by a 
more vigorous test of qualifications. 

The old mosque is a large, but scarcely an im- 
posing structure. It seems to be passing into 
decay, as well as into disuse. Even the bits of 
straw matting on the floor are tattered and rag- 
ged. The attendant at the door — as at all Cairo 
mosques — collects a fee of ten cents from the 
unbeliever who enters the big court ; but the un- 
believer is not required to remove his shoes, or 
to tie on those big yellow "gunboats" that are 
placed upon his feet at most of the others. The 
Mosque of Amr seems to be a place neglected and 
forgotten. A few sleeping figures were lying in 
the shade of the three hundred pillars. But one 
becomes used to these in a mosque, for in addi- 
tion to being a church, it seems to be the coolest 
rest-house and the most popular place for a nap 
and is liberally patronized by sleepers as well as 
praying gentlemen. 



280 The Spell of Egypt 

But the other mosques have plenty of wor- 
shipers who are bowing or kneeling toward 
Mecca. Here, every one seemed to be dead, like 
the big mosque itself. On Friday only a few 
pious Mohammedans venture into Amr 's sacred 
inclosure to worship. They are no longer able 
to rub their tongues against the stone and they 
may not try to squeeze between the pillars for 
the purpose of gaining immortal life, so they go 
to one of the newer mosques — perhaps to that 
magnificent pile of yellow alabaster, which looks 
like a gigantic onyx clock, which proudly raises 
its glistening minarets within the walls of the 
ancient citadel. 

But the fact remains that the khedive comes 
here once every year to worship, and Amr sud- 
denly assumes its great importance as one of the 
holiest of the shrines of Cairo. Not long ago, 
when the Nile did not rise and famine threat- 
ened the land of Egypt, the heads of all the 
churches, Mohammedan, Coptic, Protestant, 
Eoman Catholic, Greek-Orthodox and Jewish, 
agreed to meet together and pray for rain. The 
Mosque of Amr was selected as the most appro- 
priate place for the gathering, in many ways one 
of the most remarkable ever held in Cairo. 

At first one naturally doubts that Mary and 
Jesus rested in the little stone niche in the base- 



Visiting "Holy Places'^ 281 

ment of the Coptic church ; but I believe most of 
the historians accept the place as practically 
certain. The Coptic church was in a flourishing 
condition under St. Mark, who dwelt at Alexan- 
dria, and it has continued to flourish since that 
time, despite the warfare against it, and the 
prejudices that have naturally sprung up against 
it in a Mohammedan country. The Bible says 
that the Holy Family came to Egypt, and there 
is no good reason to disbelieve the statement of 
the ''earliest Christians" that this church was 
built on the site of the underground house in 
the narrow street of Old Cairo that was their 
lodging-place. They would naturally have care- 
fully guarded such a place through all the cen- 
turies that have passed, and there is no good 
reason to believe that its position has been 
changed. 

^ut probably the greater change has come over 
the Copts themselves. The church is ruled by a 
patriarch who is selected from the monks in the 
monastery on the Eed Sea. There are twelve 
bishops of the church, and while they need not be 
monks, they must lead strict lives. The priests 
are permitted to marry one wife, if they do so 
before ordination. They place great stress 
upon immersion as the only form of Baptism and 
place three kinds of holy oils in the water. Boys 



282 The Spell of Egypt 

are baptized when they are forty days old and 
girls when eighty days old. Children who are 
not immersed, they believe, will be blind in the 
world to come. But there is much in the Coptic 
church that seems to be more of Islam than of 
Christianity as we know it. The women of the 
Copts do not wear veils, but their position in the 
household is much the same as in the Moham- 
medan family. They do not see their husbands 
until they are married and their marriages are 
contracted for by their fathers and their hus- 
bands ' fathers. The law of the church compels 
them to stay in the house after they are married 
until after their first child is born, but this cus- 
tom is slowly passing. Copts pray about five 
times a day, as do the Moslems ; they often wash 
before praying as do the Moslems, and instead of 
turning toward Mecca, they turn toward the 
east. They stand during the three-hour service 
at church, the older members of the congregation 
leaning on crutches. At death, the women wail 
as before Moslem houses for three days, and 
women visit the cemetery to wail and mourn, as 
do the Moslem women ; and after visiting bury- 
ing grounds, people give alms to the poor, a cus- 
tom that has come down from the ancient Egyp- 
tians. Copts seem to be proud of the fact that 
they are not Mohammedans, although they real- 




ENTRANCE TO EL-AZHAR UNIVERSITY, CAIRO. 



Visiting *^Holy Places'^ 283 

ize tliat they are despised and looked down upon 
by the entire Moslem world. Perhaps they are 
''clannish" also, as are most people who have 
been persecuted. Several times when I was in 
Upper Egypt, a donkey boy, endeavouring to 
have me take his donkey for a ride, rather than 
one of several waiting for hire, would slyly slip 
around to my side and show me the blue tattoo 
mark of the cross upon his wrist, which he 
seemed to think established his priority. 

One of the most interesting differences be- 
tween Copts and Moslems is the anxiety of the 
former to study and learn, to educate themselves 
and to have their children educated. Until 
recently, however, their schools have been much 
like Moslem schools. Their boys learned to re- 
cite the epistles and gospels in Arabic and Cop- 
tic, as the boys are taught to recite passages 
from the Koran — and when they learn them, 
they are ' ' educated. '^. 

I went to the largest Mohammedan university 
in the world, El-Azhar, a mosque which lies in 
the midst of filthy and narrow streets, and pre- 
sents no more attractive entrance to the world 
than the boot stalls and fish markets next door. 
But as high as six thousand boys and young 
men are students here, and represent the entire 
Moslem world. The mosque dates from the 



284 The SpeU of Egypt 

tenth century, and since 988 a. d. it has been a 
school. It has about three hundred "profes- 
sors." When I arrived, the ''professors," 
often dirty and unkempt creatures, were sitting 
around imparting knowledge to young Islam. 
Sometimes the groups of youngsters were fast 
asleep on the matting and leaned against the pil- 
lars or against one another's shoulders. Some- 
times they were mumbling and chanting the 
Koran, and seemed to be paying no attention to 
the words of the teacher. I was obliged to put 
on yellow slippers as I tramped around the dust- 
laden matting, but half-clad men were sprawl- 
ing there in the shade with dirty rags about them 
and muddy feet, having come in from the 
sprinkled streets for a "nap."' 

The boys received "scholarships" from 
wealthy or pious Mohanunedans, several of the 
Sultans of Turkey, rulers of such countries as 
Morocco and even Afghanistan, as well as the 
khedives of Egypt, having contributed large 
sums which provide bread. The boys sleep on 
the matting where they hear "lectures." And 
despite its appearance, El-Azhar exercises an 
important influence upon the life of the Moslem 
world. It was here that Eoosevelt "insulted" 
the students by telling them to be good and mind 
their English rulers. Here all sorts of political 



Visiting *'Holy Places" 285 



feuds arise. Here are discussed tlie plans for 
the great Mohanunedan conquering of the world 
— as the same plans were discussed centuries 
ago, and will be probably for many centuries to 
come. 

One sees so many strange religious practices 
in the East, however, that it is nothing particu- 
larly new, after having made visits to a few 
of the principal houses of worship, to find cus- 
toms and performances that appear to be any- 
thing but religious and seem to be almost those 
farcial ''shows" that are sometimes arranged 
for the benefit of tourists in European cities by 
theatrical managers, who "leave no stone un- 
turned," as the expression goes, to give to any 
one who pays the required admission fee his 
money's worth. This is particularly true of 
many of the Mohammedan churches or mosques, 
where the very floor is so holy that unbelievers 
may not step their shoes upon it ; but after a fee 
of ten cents has been placed in the hand of the 
greedy gentleman at the door, and after another 
five cents has been placed in the palm of the 
other gentleman who ties yellow moccasins over 
one's shoes before he steps over the threshold, 
there is likely to be a ''show" of some sort in- 
side that is rather shocking to occidental eyes. 
For instance, I have entered a mosque with all 



286 The SpeU of Egypt 

the best intentions in the world of taking things 
seriously, for one should respect another's feel- 
ings in matters of religious belief, and at least 
one should not scoff at another's faith; but 
within these mosques there are so many ludi- 
crous sights that seriousness is often impossible, 
and things seem to be purposely turned into a 
crude show for the benefit of the spectator. 

I have previously referred to so-called *^holy 
men" and their prevalence throughout Egypt, 
but since that time I have seen another and per- 
haps the weirdest specimen of the kind. It was 
at the magnificent alabaster mosque inside of the 
citadel at Cairo. The building is a tremendous 
structure that seems to be constructed of white 
and yellow onyx. It is carpeted with beautiful 
dark red Turkish rugs, in every one of which re- 
poses a fortune, and a hundred Oriental lamps 
sway on long chains from the dome in the center 
of the building. It is one of the most impressive 
churches I have ever seen, one of those places 
where one expects to find quiet and the oppor- 
tunity to observe the worshipers and perhaps 
glean a little more information in regard to that 
complicated religion of Islam which nobody 
seems to thoroughly understand, not even its 
followers. 
, I approached the mosaic inclosure which 




ALABASTER MOSQUE OF MEHEMET ALI, CAIRO. 



Visiting "Holy Places'^ 287 

marks the direction of Mecca, became interested 
in the ornate pulpit, and was about to retire to 
the background to watch the proceedings, when 
a '"holy man" attracted my attention — ^pur- 
posely, I believe — ^by grunting aloud and then 
pretending to pray as I turned to see him. His 
eyes sparkled and he almost winked at me as the 
Mohammedans kissed his outstretched hand and 
I stood there beside him. Finally he held out 
his hand for a contribution. This was given and 
he grinned. We saw the antics and thought the 
*'holy man" was picturesque enough to photo- 
graph, but the very thought of suggesting that 
this man come to the sunlight on the outside of 
the church seemed to be preposterous. A man 
who was so holy that people kissed his hands 
would not care to do anything for a camera man. 
But the proposal was made. 

"If Allah wills it," he replied with a smirk. 

"Two shillings," we suggested, and the 
"holy man" made the quickest move of his life 
to come out into the courtyard. 

Instead of wearing a turban he had rags of all 
colours wound into a sort of tiara or pointed 
crown that reached about two feet into the air 
and came to a point on top. He wore at least 
ten long garments, all ragged and torn and 
hanging in shreds about his bare legs and feet. 



288 The SpeU of Egypt 

Over all lie wore' a peculiar garment in the form 
of a huge overcoat, but one that was manufac- 
tured by a strange tailor. It was a ''coat of 
many colours" with blocks of bright calico 
patched upon a brown background in ''crazy 
quilt" manner, while various cords and tassels 
dangled about his waist. He carried a wooden 
sword about four feet long, and tin was wrapped 
about it — ^probably tin from an old Standard Oil 
can. This "weapon" jflopped along the ground, 
dangling from a rope that hung over his shoul- 
ders. 

"If Allah wills it," he replied, when we asked 
him to "look pleasant" before the camera, and 
then he grinned, although one might think that 
he would have been afraid of losing "caste" 
with those who believed in him, for they gath- 
ered around in the courtyard. And although 
these "holy men" are generally thought to be 
lunatics, it's very plain some of the time that 
they know how to look out for themselves. The 
gang stood around and chatted, gossiped about 
us and laughed during the operation of taking 
the picture. Anyway, what was caste? The 
Mohammedans gave him pennies ; we gave him 
shillings ! And could not a holy man do as he 
pleased? Inevitably came the refusal to be 
satisfied with the salary for his posing, as agreed 




HOLY MAN IN THE ALABASTER iMOSC^UE OF MEHEMET 
ALI, CAIRO. 



Visiting ^'Holy Places" 289 

upon before he came out of the mosque. He was 
worth more, he said, and he spoke in Arabic and 
made appealing gestures to the crowd around 
him. They chattered furiously, but Newman 
said: *'Two shilling is all," as he placed the 
amount in the hand of the ''holy man," who 
grinned at his bargain, and went back into the 
alabaster mosque and squatted down near the 
door to collect contributions from believers and 
infidels. 

But perhaps the strangest exhibition of all in 
a Mohammedan church is that provided by the 
dervishes. They perform on Fridays, the Mo- 
hammedan sabbath, and the public is again ''in- 
vited" to see them, although they have not had 
the assistance of outside money for the past four 
years because of a fight that occurred within the 
church walls, when Christians were present. 
After that the government stepped in and pro- 
hibited all Christians from witnessing the dance 
of the dervishes, but the "show" has been regu- 
lated by government now, and "you pays your 
money and sees everything." 

The church where they perform is a circular 
structure approached by several flights of steps 
and palm-bordered paths. The audience stands 
around a large dancing floor, much as the audi- 
ence stands around a dancing floor at an amuse- 



290 The SpeU of Egypt 

ment park at home to watcli the roller skaters 
or dancers. Mohammedans sit up in the gal- 
leries and leave the lower spaces to unbelievers. 
The floor is slippery as ice. The service is an- 
nounced for three o'clock in the afternoon, but, 
as of everything else that is announced in Ori- 
ental countries, it begins about an hour later 
than scheduled. About a quarter of four, young 
men and old men, wearing black, dark blue or 
brown mantles, and caps with a tall crown and 
no ''brim," begin to stroll into the inclosure, 
drop off their shoes and flop themselves down 
beside the railing of the big inclosure on small 
straw mats. They move their lips in prayer and 
sometimes bend their foreheads to the floor 
while they are waiting, for this is a holy place 
and a holy service, although it seems to be any- 
thing but holy to the onlookers. 

Finally, after about thirty of them had ar- 
rived — a larger number than usual, they told me 
— the sheik, wearing a big green turban, which 
made him different in appearance from the 
others, entered the inclosure, nodded to the as- 
sembled dervishes, who again put their fore- 
heads to the floor and then approached the 
sheepskin mat on which he was squatting and 
kissed his hands. The sheik clapped his hands 
for the service to begin. Men in the choir loft 



Visiting **Holy Places" 291 

began to play flutes and tom-toms and a singer 
stepped forward and sang a tedious song in 
Persian to the dance music, and he was the only 
person of the lot who seemed to realize that it 
was a religious service. He intoned his words, 
and tried to make the music sound like a chant, 
by getting far behind the instrumentalists ; but 
he was not always successful, and it sounded 
usually as if he were frightfully off key. The 
sheik clapped his hands again and the dervishes 
rose to their feet, bowed to one another, threw 
off their long dark mantles and began to whirl 
witTi their arms raised over their heads. They 
all wore white gowns that were made much like 
the accordion pleated skirts of the dancers in 
theaters at home, only they were merely very 
full and loaded at the bottom with lead or wire, 
so that they soared out into the air in big undu- 
lating curves, much as the skirts of Loie Fuller 
and other ''serpentine" dancers used to do in 
the music halls. Verily, La Loie, as the French 
called the American dancer, received credit for 
a good deal of originality in her dances, but she 
must have seen the dervishes. They give prac- 
tically the same performance. 

There was a sort of deacon, who stood in the 
center of the floor, his mission being to keep 
every one in motion and to see that nobody be- 



292 The SpeU of Egypt 

came "lazy." But they did not seem to need 
any one to spur them on. Some of these dancers 
must have been fully eighty years of age, old 
men with long white beards; but they toddled 
around as best they could, and made their skirts 
fly as did the younger men. After a while the 
music assumed a faster tempo and gradually be- 
came nothing but frantic screeches, ''encourag- 
ing" the dancers to a frenzy of movement. An 
ear unaccustomed to it could not distinguish it 
from the music that is heard in the cafes of 
Cairo, which we have seen imitated at world's 
fairs, where the dancers were not dervishes, and 
where the exhibition was considered anything 
but holy. But here, again, the authorities have 
stepped in and demanded a lessening of the fury 
of the thing. The Cairo dervishes — like those 
at Constantinople and Damascus — ^used to whirl 
until they fell, biting their lips and tongues, 
fainting or frothing at the mouth in fits and 
spasms. But suddenly the music stopped. It 
was the decree of the king's men in Egypt. The 
men fell to their knees quite exhausted, and the 
sheik mumbled a prayer and went out, followed 
by the others. It might not have seemed quite 
so funny, but I stayed in the garden to look at 
the tropical flowers, and saw the dervishes come 
and dip their sticky feet in a big stone tank 



Visiting ^^Holy Places^^ 293 

under a hydrant, before they scuffed them into 
their slippers and went about their several ways 
rejoicing. Technically, the dervishes are Mo- 
hammedan monks, but near the monastery, 
where they live, they have modest homes and im- 
modest families ; for they are allowed to marry, 
and in their routine lives they are much like 
other men, excepting on Friday, when they give 
the serpentine dance, which makes them objects 
of reverence. 




CHAPTER XIV 

AN EGYPTIAN SAVANT 

;E is a little old fellow, chubby and ruddy- 
faced, and he wears a gray beard that is 
just long enough to convey the impression 
that he has not shaved for a week. His yellow 
linen trousers are wrinkled and dirty, and he 
wears a little alpaca coat that cannot be but- 
toned by at least six inches. He sits at an old- 
fashioned desk that is piled at least a foot high 
with documents, some of which bear big red 
official seals, letters, pamphlets, mummy cloth, 
hieroglyphic inscriptions on slabs of stone or on 
blotting paper, where they have been impressed 
from the original stone, pieces of bone that look 
as if they had belonged to a human skull once 
upon a time, and a big box of cigarettes. Be- 
side his chair are other chairs and upon these are 
piled large volumes, to which he frequently re- 
fers. For he is a student, this man, a writer of 
mighty tomes. He is, perhaps, the greatest liv- 
ing authority upon the subject to which he has 
devoted his life. The gentleman is Gaston Mas- 

294 



An Egyptian Savant 295 

pero, until recently the ''keeper" of the mam- 
moth Egyptian museum in Cairo, one whose 
name is familiar in all works on Egypt that have 
been published in the last thirty years, and one 
whose name must be written hereafter in all 
books that relate to exploration, excavation and 
restoration among the ancient buildings along 
the banks of the Nile. 

Maspero is a Frenchman, like Mariette, that 
jBrst ''keeper" of the museum, which was built 
to keep together the wonderful collections that 
were being constantly found in Egypt and which 
were being sent to other countries to enrich their 
Egyptian collections. He is Mariette 's suc- 
cessor, a position of honour and a reward for his 
long years of service in the field. He discovered 
some of the most important documents that have 
ever been unearthed here ; he found royal mum- 
mies, tombs and temples the very locations of 
which were forgotten by the world, and he has 
been a prolific author. When I asked him how 
many titles reposed on library shelves to his 
credit, he seemed surprised at the question and 
told me that he did not know. He had never 
thought to count them. He had written count- 
less pamphlets, about thirty large volumes and a 
lot of smaller ones. They have been translated 
into so many languages, and revised so fre- 



296 The Spell of Egypt 

quently, that he has not even retained a complete 
collection himself. He says his life has been too 
busy to pay any attention to snch things. 

"I am sixty-nine years of age," he said to me, 
**and I have been always working. I believe 
that I have earned my rest and I have resigned 
my position. But the work that I have planned 
to do before I leave Egypt ! And the work that 
I have planned to do after that time ! Life is 
too short, and we become old just as we get 
started. ' ' 

Considering Maspero the highest authority in 
such matters, I was glad to ask of him a ques- 
tion which had been recurring to my mind ever 
since I began a pilgrimage of Nile shrines. 
* 'What do you consider the oldest thing in Egypt 
that was made by man f ' ' 

''You begin with a difficult question, one of the 
most difficult of all, ' ' he replied, ' ' and my answer 
must be that there are many things here that 
antedate all authentic history. Certainly, the 
Sphinx is older than our history, a thing that 
belongs to the mythic ages. I haven't a clear 
idea when and by whom it could have been made. 
I believe that it was probably suggested to its 
builders by some rock that took this natural 
form, whereupon the chisels of flint or other 
hard substance assisted nature. This process 



An Egyptian Savant 297 

went on from age to age, for we know that it has 
been repaired and improved upon several times. 
But there was a still older rock of the same shape 
up near Assuit, of which we do not hear so much. 
Perhaps this is because it has now disappeared, 
having given way to the pressure of the quarry- 
men. I feel safe in saying that the oldest thing 
in Egypt to which I care to assign an exact date 
is seven thousand years old. I found inscrip- 
tions at Sakhara that are much older than our 
history. They were written in a language that 
appears to have been almost forgotten when the 
inscriptions were made, thus far antedating 
hieroglyphics. It seems to have been a language 
known to the priests or leaders of men, much as 
Latin is sometimes known to church-goers to- 
day. ' ' 

''What do you consider the most important 
discovery you ever made in Egypt?" 

"Do you mean from a personal standpoint? 
Well, that would easily relate to matters that are 
technical and of interest chiefly to students of 
archeology. I suppose the most important 
thing I ever did from the popular point of view 
was my discovery of the royal mummies ; partic- 
ularly to Americans and Englishmen I believe 
this would be the case, for there is no greater 
interest for your countrymen than a mummy. 



298 The SpeU of Egypt 

They seem to feel that it is a symbol of Egypt 
and is all sufficient. But perhaps this discovery 
of mine showed the really practical value of 
our work in constant exploration and excava- 
tion. Here was something really tangible, and 
the public could see that the work was worth 
while." 

**Do you consider that practically everything 
has now been excavated, and that most of the 
really important discoveries have been made?" 

"On the contrary, I believe that the ground 
has just been scratched and that we have just 
made a good beginning. Still, one can never 
tell. It is possible to spend thousands of dollars 
here in the most intelligent excavation work all 
to no purpose, for it is a constant game of guess- 
work. One can never tell what lurks beyond the 
shadow of the rocks and debris. But we are 
constantly making J&nds that warrant a continu- 
ance of the work, a broadening of it if possible, 
and discoveries which warrant me in making the 
statement that the work has been scarcely begun, 
when one considers how much there is yet to 
do." 

"About how much money would you say is 
spent annually for Egyptian excavation ? ' ' 

** That's another difficult matter to say 
exactly, for many private individuals are spend- 



An Egyptian Savant 299 

ing large sums which are not always included in 
our reckonings. I should say that if thirty dif- 
ferent people spent about five thousand dollars 
in one year, that would come somewhere near 
the exact figure. But we receive contributions 
from the outside. Phoebe Hearst of California 
gave us a large sum, and so did Pierpont Mor- 
gan, and scientists were engaged to work where 
they saw fit and as they desired. ' ' 

''Can any one explore and excavate in 
Egypt r' 

** Practically speaking, yes; but, of course, we 
require some sort of credentials. But the word 
of an academy, a university or a government is 
usually sufficient safeguard for us. We have a 
committee which sits during the winter months 
and passes upon the names of applicants who 
desire to enter the field and can show that they 
have sufficient funds to carry on desired work. 
But every one should remember that it is an easy 
matter to spend fifty thousand dollars in Egyp- 
tian excavation without obtaining a result worth 
mentioning. But one can never tell what great 
rewards may be awaiting the pick and shovel 
just a little deeper in the earth. For example, 
not long ago at a little village in Nubia — I cannot 
say just how the preliminaries of the discovery 
came about — some of the ancient Greek classics, 



300 The Spell of Egypt 

some of them supposed to have been lost to the 
world forever, were brought to light and are now 
being deciphered — things that enrich the knowl- 
edge of the world, and are more valuable than 
figures would indicate to the student. ' ' 

I asked Maspero for his photograph and he 
laughed outright. I should imagine the first 
time he has laughed so hard for many a day. 
^*No," he said, ^'I have no photograph. I 
haven't been before the camera for many years. 
The last time I sat for a picture I wore my 
glasses and my eyes looked like holes in my head, 
and my face ! No, it is not the sort of face that 
one wishes to see in an illustration. It is better 
for people not to see what I look like. They 
haven't one even in the museum of Cairo, unless 
by chance one of my old ones has crept into some 
edition of one of my books." 

*'In America perhaps we know Egypt best, or 
at least ancient Egypt best, by the romances of 
Georg Ebers, the German Egyptologist and 
novelist. What is your opinion of his work?" 

''My opinion is that it was great and endur- 
ing work, that Ebers was a great man and that 
nobody could have done his work as well as he 
did it. He was my very dear friend, and we 
laboured together for a long time, side by side, 
until illness overtook him. When he was not 



An Egyptian Savant 301 

able to sit up lie lay on Ms bed and dictated some 
of those romances. Think of that for industry ! 
He wrote me about one hundred and fifty letters, 
which are among my choicest possessions. It's 
pretty difficult for a man of the present day to 
put himself into the atmosphere of thousands of 
years ago. He must have fitted himself for such 
labour by many years of diligent toil and re- 
search. Ebers did, and readers make no mis- 
take by liking his novels. I have none of the 
romancing instinct in me ; I have to write down 
cold, scientific facts — and that has kept me 
pretty busy. But as I said before, I am giving 
up the work. Even now, I confine myself to 
classification and direction, rather than to actual 
work. Let the younger men do that — ^there are 
plenty of them, and great futures seem to be 
dawning for some of them. Conditions are dif- 
ferent than they were when I began — for that 
was a long time ago. ' ' 

''How does one set out to become an Egyp- 
tologist? Is not the amount of beforehand 
knowledge a handicap that might discourage the 
average man?" 

''It's like other things, you do what you do 
because you can't help it. When I was eleven 
years of age my tutor led me into the Louvre in 
Paris and explained some of the inscriptions and 



The Spell of Egypt 



Meroglyphics on the Egyptian monuments to me. 
I have always felt that I made np my mind that 
day to become an Egyptologist, and all of my 
energies all the rest of my life have been ex- 
pended along that line. I couldn't help it. 
And now here I am at sixty-nine with my work 
just well begun. ' ' 



CHAPTER ^Vi 
**dawn" of equal rights 

^NE hears so miicli about woman's rigMs 
[^Jl in Cliristian countries, and so much, about 
woman's wrongs in Mohammedan coun- 
tries, that the opposite of either is interesting to 
observe, if merely as a matter of contrast. 
Some people believe that Mohammedan women 
will never enjoy the *' rights" that belong to 
them, chiefly because they do not seem to want 
them ; and, on the other hand, there are authori- 
ties, like Pierre toti, who knows his Constan- 
tinople well, who say that the "dawn" has ar- 
rived, that the Turkish ladies are opening their 
eyes to the world and its possibilities, that they 
are following the styles of their French sisters 
in many matters of dress and social etiquette, 
discarding the veil by slow degrees, and at least 
preparing themselves for the "great emancipa- 
tion" when the time comes for it. 

Cairo ladies are usually thought to be much 
behind the Constantinople ladies as pertains to 
most of these worldly matters. The white face 

303 



304 The Spell of Egypt 

veil, for example, is the "fashion" of Constan- 
tinople, and has been quite generally adopted by 
the better class women of Egypt. Here in the 
East, as in the far West, fashions seem to origi- 
nate in Paris. When they reach Egypt, it is 
true, they are considerably altered to suit the 
requirements of Mohammedan women; but 
women who still appear in public draped in the 
heavy black robes that envelop them from head 
to feet, shove their toes into high-heeled French 
slippers. Often they do not slip the ''heel" of 
the slipper over their feet at all, but trample 
upon it, thus converting the shoe into a sort of 
sandal, like the shoes to which they have been 
accustomed. But they are French shoes all the 
same. And there are many other forms of 
French finery about their costumes. 

But the ''progress" of Egyptian women is not 
very apparent to the casual tripper, who rides 
about the streets of Cairo in a carriage, or sits 
upon the hotel veranda and watches the crowd as 
it passes. Thus I counted it a particular pleas- 
ure when I was received into the home of an 
Egyptian family, having been invited by the 
father, husband and lord and master of the 
household, to dine with his family. Here at last 
was a peep into the inside of Cairo home life of 
the better sort ; here the opportunity to observe 



"Dawn" of Equal Rights 305 

whether or not the ladies of the family — to whom 
I expected to be presented, although the custom 
is not usual — ^had any thoughts or aspirations 
that could be compared to the thoughts and 
aspirations of the European or American 
woman. We usually think of these Oriental 
ladies as stout, lazy, perfumed, candy-eating, 
castanet-playing creatures; but it seemed very 
likely that this idea was obtained from the art 
works of the centuries — and the picture post- 
cards that are now circulated around the world. 
The gentleman who invited me to his home was 
a bey, thus he has a certain social position, and 
what he did and what his family did was quite 
likely to be at least an ''indication" of the gen- 
eral trend that things are taking at the present 
time. 

Arrived at his home, we were soon seated in 
a large drawing-room, the side of which looked 
upon a garden, and innumerable servants — ^who 
seem to pop up at every turn in Egypt — ^began 
to enter and place coffee, ice cold water and 
cigarettes before me in a rather bewildering suc^ 
cession, for the cold water was renewed about 
once in ten minutes, and when I ventured to lift 
a glass of it to my lips, the paterfamilias asked 
me to wait, clapped his hands, and a waiter 
brought a fresh glass for fear that it had become 



306 The Spell of Egypt 

Tvarm. The bey sat back on his haunches and 
smoked innumerable cigarettes, and although he 
wore European clothes, he kept his '*fez" upon 
his head while in his own home — even at his own 
dining-table, for an Egyptian does seem to be 
proud of that little red cap. Even the drago- 
man who may be wiping his perspiring forehead 
at the time, quickly claps it back upon his head 
when he is addressed by a foreigner. Even in 
hotel dining-rooms and other public places, they 
keep them upon their heads — and although I had 
not known it before, I suppose that all of them 
keep them on when they are in their own homes. 
Perhaps a quarter of an hour after we had 
comfortably settled ourselves for a smoke, the 
first daughter arrived upon the scene, was pre- 
sented to the stranger and settled herself for a 
visit. Then at intervals of five minutes, arrived 
other daughters and the mother, until there were 
five female members of the family. They sat 
down and chatted as freely as if they had been 
' 4ords of creation ' ' — their fathers and brothers. 
Immediately they observed that I spoke English 
and that their father was addressing me in that 
language, they did likewise, and while their Eng- 
lish had a foreign accent, it was grammatical 
and almost without a slip. Yet these were girls 
of Cairo, girls who do not have the ''advan- 



"Dawn" of Equal Rights 307 

tages" of Western education and culture, girls 
wlio have never been beyond the borders of 
Egypt, and who are supposed by half of the 
world to be sitting behind screened windows and 
rushing to their private apartments when they 
see a stranger^ — or even a male friend of the 
family, approaching. 

But English was but one of five languages 
which they speak fluently, the others being 
French, Italian, German and Arabic — all of 
which they found occasion to use in my hearing 
and yet did so without the slightest apparent 
knowledge of having performed a linguistic feat. 
Their mother's father came from Sicily, thus 
their mother herself prefers to speak in Italian, 
and when addressing her famiharly they used 
that language. The Egyptian servants were ad- 
dressed in Arabic, while a maid who brought the 
grandchildren to be presented to the ''Ameri- 
can," spoke German and conversed with every 
one in that language. 

''That was one reason why father engaged 
the German maid," said one of the daughters; 
"we had some difficulty in acquiring the correct 
German pronunciation and we believed that the 
best way to become fluent and at the same time 
correct, was to speak nothing but German to at 
least one person in the house." 



308 The Spell of Egypt 

I commented that it would be rare for any one 
to speak five languages fluently in America. 

* ' But probably Americans do not find it neces- 
sary, ' ' said one of the young ladies very politely ; 
''with French and English I imagine it is quite 
possible to go anywhere with the greatest ease." 

''French?" I queried. 

"Yes, I have heard that all the better class 
people in America speak French as well as Eng- 
lish," she replied. "Is it not so?" 

And, fortunately, at that moment the gong 
rang for dinner, and we proceeded not to that 
eight-course function called "dinner" which 
most Europeans and Americans must have gazed 
upon with wonder until they became accustomed 
to it, but to a meal that lasted for over three 
hours and contained twelve courses ! And it is 
popularly said that people in warm climates do 
not eat heavily, particularly that they do not eat 
much meat, "because they do not require it." 
But this was a "typical" dinner in a first-class 
Egyptian home and there were five meat 
courses ! Conversation between all the members 
of the family became English and remained Eng- 
lish throughout the long ordeal of dinner — ^be- 
cause they had an English-speaking guest. The 
same thing would have been true in German, 
French, Italian or Arabic i 



"Dawn" of Equal Rights 309 

And as conversation lagged during the service 
of a course, I thought to myself, where in all of 
America would one find such a cultured, really 
educated group of women in one family, yet I 
have heard the speeches and read the "essays" 
of ladies who are always talking about the 
''cause" in America, which made impassioned 
pleas for sending the sunlight to ' ' our benighted 
sisters in Mohammedan countries." All of 
which, it appears to me, is generally rubbish. I 
have seen proof of the fact that ''poor benighted 
sisters in Mohammedan countries" could give 
some of — or most of — their European sisters 
what we call a "lively run" in most of the ac- 
complishments, evidence of culture, social refine- 
ment and general knowledge of world's affairs. 
The "benighted" sisters are either so from 
choice, or because they are not in environment 
which is yet ready for the ' ' light. ' ' Most of the 
better-class ladies in Europe read the literature, 
magazines, popular novels — and even scientific 
works — in three or four languages. They are 
able to talk intelligently of the operatic stars, 
or the latest fads in the art world, and of the 
literary lions of two or three countries. 

The ladies in this family knew ' ' Dicky" Davis, 
but had always called him "Eichard Harding 
Davis," until they heard me say "Dicky," and 



310 The Spell of Egypt 

immediately they grasped the popular "nick- 
name" of the well-known novelist; they said 
they would call him "Dicky" in future, and it 
seemed to please them immensely. 

One of the details of this Oriental home life, 
however, that I was not able to grasp, and which 
I believe is quite impossible, is the natural tend- 
ency to indulge in what we sometimes call blar- 
ney. It is almost impossible to know what to say 
in reply or how to properly appreciate some of 
the compliments that are showered upon one who 
happens to be a guest under an Oriental roof. 
In the home of a Spaniard, you say that you 
admire anything, and as a matter of decency, he 
tells you that it is yours — although you are not 
supposed to take it away with you when you go. 
I was introduced by the bey to his family as one 
who "had condescended to take dinner at our 
humble home. ' ' At least once during the dinner 
each member of the family assured me that I 
had honoured the family board with my pres- 
ence. "You say nothing," said one of the girls 
to her sister, whp seemed to be less proficient in 
English than the others. "My daughter is so 
overjoyed by your presence in our house that 
she cannot speak," smiled the father. And so it 
went on until I felt that it had come my time for 
a "jolly" as we say in America, so I remarked 



^^Dawn^' of Equal Rights 311 

that ''Shepheard's hotel never serves ice cream 
like this," and the entire family enjoyed the best 
laugh of the season, after my feeble attempt to 
be ' ' Orientally polite. ' ' It chanced that we were 
enjoying ices from that famous hostelry. 

''You have ladies in your family at home?" 
asked the mother. 

I replied in the affirmative, and she immedi- 
ately asked after their health, and at my de- 
parture asked me to convey the compliments of 
the ladies of the household in which I had been 
entertained in Cairo to my relatives at home. 
And, as I left the house, I thought that probably 
my "ladies at home" would think pityingly of 
these ladies of Egypt, whom the books of travel 
say ' ' are little better off than the beasts of the 
field and are considered as goods and chattels by 
their husbands and fathers." 



CHAPTER XVI 

YELLOW DAYS AND AZUBE NIGHTS 

'T must be a question in the mind of every 
Egyptian traveler whether he prefers the 
day or the night. Presumably one who 
goes to the Nile country anticipates bathing in 
the equatorial sunshine that seems to be as cer- 
tain as dawn ; but one from the West must also 
delight in those ultramarine nights when every- 
thing takes on the almost uncanny purplish blue 
tint that one has instinctively associated with the 
unreal and spiritual. Here again, as in thou- 
sands of ways, one finds the same surprise. He 
grazes beyond the boundary of today and finds 
himself suddenly transported to another world. 
The avenues of Cairo reflect the present, but 
follow one of those paved pathways a short dis- 
tance and you quickly find that you have stepped 
back thousands of years. When the sun blazes 
and the merchants hang out the brightly coloured 
canopies before their shops, when the human 
tide flows by in its brilliant costumes, when the 
streets are filled with a shouting and gesticulat- 

312 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 313 

ing populace, it is easy to realize that it is the 
present. 

But when the sun goes down, shedding strange 
rose tints over the sky, the throbbing of Oriental 
life seems to hesitate. Then in a moment, for 
the Egyptian twilight is almost non-existent, one 
seems to be blinded. The sun has glared for 
many hours. Presto ! The curtain seems to be 
raised and a dark sapphire sky appears, studded 
with more stars than the Westerner believed it 
was possible for a human eye to see. This is 
Egyptian night, whether the moon shines or not. 
Just where the time-worn expression ''black as 
Egyptian night" originated, one cannot imagine. 
Egyptian nights are amazingly blue. And, 
when night falls, time seems to fall back also. 
Beyond the few streets blazing with electric 
lights, realities seem to fade, and there is a gulf 
of centuries separating the past and the pres- 
ent. 

It has been remarked often enough that one 
may sit on Shepheard's terrace for a few hours 
and watch the whole world pass. We tried the 
experiment often enough, but always there was 
something to lure us away from our comfortable 
seats beneath the palms. Better, we believed, to 
sit on the terrace after we had seen everything 
else and had grown weary of the sight. But, un- 



314 The Spell of Egypt 

fortunately, tliat time never came, so one cannot 
suggest similar tactics to travelers of tlie future. 
Unlike most of tlie other places of the world, one 
never tires of Cairo, and one never sees all the 
' ' sights. ' ' Part of this is due to the fact that it 
is one of the most fascinating cities in the world, 
because it is a blending of the old and the new, 
partly because the two halves of the world find 
this their most convenient meeting-place; and 
part is inexplicable. 

Cairo is intoxicating; there are no two ways 
about it, and there cannot be two opinions. And 
everything and everybody are '' sights" in the 
usual acceptance of the word. The staring 
European appears to be as strange to the desert 
man as the Abyssinian monk is to the Parisian. 
The automobile is as strange to the man driving 
a bullock-cart full of strange produce as the 
camel is to the American. 

I have related experiences and incidents that 
transpired in the streets and came under my 
observation to life-long dwellers in Cairo and 
they assured me that while they would not be 
surprised at anything, they had never had simi- 
lar experiences nor known of similar incidents. 
Thus when the stranger leaves his hotel steps, 
he plunges into a world that is certain to provide 
its quota of amusement and entertainment. One 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 315 

thinks after the first day, judging from his eX' 
periences in other cities, that the kaleidoscope 
cannot continue to turn. Certainly the ''tang'* 
will have departed the following day, the 
*'edge" will be gone. But the next day and the 
next, the following weeks and for weeks to come, 
it will be the same. And, after a time, one will 
become so immersed in the atmosphere of the 
place, so keenly alive to its perpetual joys, that 
it will be more difficult than ever to leave it be- 
hind and pass along to another destination. 

The safest advice a lover of Cairo may give to 
others is that advice given to the girl who was 
called a spendthrift because she could not resist 
the temptation to buy pretty things. She was 
told never to glance into the shop-windows 
where what she coveted was exposed for sale. 
Thus one who finds personalities in cities, and 
loves them as he loves a friend, and feels that 
sorrow at parting which he would feel when 
leaving a friend, should never go to Cairo at all. 
If he go, he should do so with the full under- 
standing beforehand that he is enjoying some- 
thing that will demand its compensation in re- 
grets when he leaves, or he should pass hurriedly 
through the principal streets, visit the widely 
advertised shrines, engage in a few of the Euro- 
peanized pastimes of the fashionable hotels, and 



316 The SpeU of Egypt 

then quickly be on his way. In this manner it 
might be easy enough to say good-by. 

But when one has gone on a hundred little ex- 
cursions by himself into dimly lighted narrow 
streets and lanes ; when one has let himself drift 
along into the market-places where veiled women 
are purchasing their vegetables for the day, 
loitered along little bypaths where merchants 
sit all day with their entire stock exposed for 
sale on a reed hamper or tray, sat with them in 
their dingy and smelly cafes, smoking hookahs 
or sipping the national black beverage ; after one 
has spent days and weeks in aimless wander- 
ings, hoping that a kind fate may lead him to the 
doorway, courtyard or garden of a majority of 
the three thousand mosques which belong to the 
city, sat and dozed in the cool shade of those 
gardens which one feels almost the American 
poet must have had in mind when he wrote that 
''the groves were God's first temples"; after 
one has come to feel an affection for these bronze 
brothers with the flowing robes, although he 
knows that in their hearts they feel none for him 
and look down upon him with a lofty disdain, a 
pride of which the Western world knows noth- 
ing; after one has watched the praying men in 
the mosques, constantly kneeling and bowing 
toward Mecca with their thoughts drifting an 




A CAIRO MERCHANT. 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 317 

incredible distance from the things of the world 
which brush their elbows ; and, finally, when one 
comes to feel almost a bond drawing him closer 
and closer to this world of which he has known 
nothing previous to his arrival in the Arab 
metropolis, then he will find himself manufac- 
turing little excuses for postponing the day of 
his departure, and secretly, but vainly, hoping 
that it may never come. 

One morning I had fully determined to spend 
a couple of hours on the hotel terrace. I 
doubted not that "the mountain would come to 
Mahomet" and that I would see enough to 
satisfy any ardent lover of '4ocal colour" if I 
merely observed what passed. A man with a 
bag of snakes came and squatted in front of me. 
They were cobras that bloated their throats as 
their owner played a shrill air to them on a reed 
pipe. A white-clad native policeman came and 
drove him away, because he was obstructing the 
traffic, and a curious crowd was gathering to 
watch the strange antics of the reptiles. But a 
magician took advantage of the confusion and at- 
tention of the guardian of the peace by the 
snake-charmer to pull cards and a ''magic 
wand" from the little bag that hung over his 
shoulders. In a flash, he was mystifying the 
crowd and urging them to be quick with their 



318 The Spell of Egypt 

pennies for lie knew that the fate which had 
overtaken the man with the snakes would soon 
he his own. He would be driven along to the 
next street-corner, where he would be obliged to 
watch for another policeman to turn his head. 

The street was a constantly moving procession 
of strange creatures ranging from the half -naked 
Nubian boy with a big brass ring in the top lobe 
of his ear, to a smartly gowned Parisienne, from 
a dervish with his tall felt cap to an English offi- 
cer gaily arrayed in flaming scarlet uniform, and 
from a Persian merchant trying to sell a sandal- 
wood fan to a German tourist with a feather in 
his hat. 

The roadway was filled with automobiles, car- 
riages, countless strange vehicles drawn by don- 
keys or bullocks. There were bells ringing, 
a clattering of the water-carrier's cymbals, 
laughter, loud talk, arguments and cries. Mo- 
hammedan women came along in groups of four 
or five, each of them carrying a plump young- 
ster on her shoulder. A carriage rolled by with 
drawn white silk curtains, eunuchs seated on the 
box and sais running to clear the road. Ladies 
of the harem were seated behind the gauzy cur- 
tains, peering out curiously through white silk 
veils. Verily, it seemed that a circus parade 
were passing, and instinctively, although this 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 319 

was an everyday occurrence, and an hourly oc- 
currence of every day, I looked up the street for 
the herd of elephants and the calliope that would 
indicate the end of the procession. After all, 
perhaps it was this youthful enthusiasm for the 
circus parade that gave me so much pleasure 
from the Cairo parade. But it was not all a 
youthful recollection. Certainly there was mu- 
sic and the beating of drums! The elephants 
must be just down the street around the corner ! 

But no. A wedding procession was about to 
pass, and although I never knew the bride's 
name nor her rank in the social scale, which is 
so important in these countries, she must have 
been some Mohammedan princess about to leave 
her father's palace in Cairo for the palace 
of her lord and master in Bagdad. Perhaps I 
was mistaken, perhaps it was not such a great 
event after all, for the people in the street 
barely glanced at the gay entourage that was 
escorting her, and the din caused by her mu- 
sicians did not attract as much attention from 
the crowd as the playing of the snake-charmer 's 
fife had done a few moments before. After all, 
it did not seem to be unusual — for Cairo. 

But here was a wedding procession worthy 
of the name. Another procession with stately 
trappings, brilliantly bedecked horses and many 



320 The SpeU of Egypt 

carriages had passed earlier, and my entliusi- 
asm liad been checked when I inquired its sig- 
nificance and found that it was in honour of the 
circumcision of a Mohammedan bahy. The 
dignified gentleman walking in front of the pro- 
cession surrounded by men carrying flags and 
standards, some of which had flashing mirrors 
at the mast-head, was merely the barber who 
was to perform the operation. But this latter 
could be no celebration of such an event. I 
felt it instinctively, because it was too imposing. 
First the street was filled with jugglers and 
swingers of batons. They tossed things high 
into the air, balanced them on their noses, and 
they even danced to the lively strains of music 
made by the screeching pipers. Brilliantly 
caparisoned camels stepped proudly along as 
if prancing to the music. Certainly they were 
the most aristocratic camels in Egypt. They 
held their snouts high in the air and glanced 
from one side of the street to the other. On 
their backs were seated black boys who were vio- 
lently beating drums, apparently in a not too 
successful attempt to enhance the rhythm made 
by dancers who whirled tambourines that were 
loaded with little bells. More camels, black 
boys, drums, dancers and jugglers. The 
bride's father must have been very rich, for 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 321 

there is no more positive proof of wealth and 
position than the display that is made when a 
daughter of the house is going to be married. 
And soon the bride came along. The vulgar 
herd, however, saw her not. There was a little 
coop made of pretty lattice work and lined with 
silk curtains. It rested on two long poles that 
were hung to the trappings of two large camels 
that walked single-file about four yards apart. 
In the coop was the bride, perhaps a little lady 
ten or twelve years of age. Behind her, in car- 
riages, were troops of relatives and friends, all 
chatting and visiting on this joyous occasion, 
certainly an affair that resembled the tourna- 
ment procession in an American circus. 

The old lure of a circus parade caught hold 
of me. I had known perfectly well earlier in 
the morning that I would not be able to resist the 
impulse to go somewhere and that I would leave 
my terrace-gazing for some later day ; but I had 
not believed that it would be this very Western 
desire to follow a circus parade. But I did. I 
followed the camels, jugglers, drums and 
formed a part of the escort of the bride to a 
stately mansion set back behind a high wall in 
a courtyard. There the procession disbanded 
and a gate closed between me and the little 
bride whom I shall never see. 



322 The Spell of Egypt 



As it was near the noon hour, and looking 
about me to form some conclusion as to 
whither I had drifted to the tune of fife and 
drum, I saw that I was in the neighbourhood 
of the Muski, the most celebrated Oriental 
street in the world, so I repaired thither and 
soon found amusement enough with my old 
friends, the keepers of the bazaars. At least I 
like to think of them as friends, although I know 
that they lack about every qualification that 
one would have his friends possess. Approach 
this street and one is soon besieged by Greeks, 
Persians, Hindoos, Jews and Egyptians. They 
shout, and jostle passers-by in their endeavour 
to attract your attention to their wares. They 
beg the kind gentleman to step into their little 
booths and have a cup of coffee. Will the beau- 
tiful lady inspect their stock of necklaces, slip- 
pers or spangled shawls? Certainly the lady 
and gentleman will not find anything so elegant, 
nor yet so cheap, in all of Egypt. The mer- 
chant whispers, for he would keep it a secret, 
that he purchases most of his jewelry from the 
impoverished families of Cairo; therefore he 
has wonderful antiques, and he can afford to 
sell them cheaper than the other merchants. 
Also, he has a rare stock of ambers. The 
stranger knows old Hassan Fadl of Port Said? 




THE MUSKI, CAIRO. 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 323 

No? How strange. "Well, old Hassan liad the 
finest ambers in the world, and he grew so old 
that he could not keep his booth open more than 
two days a week, so he decided to abandon his 
business altogether and devote the remainder of 
his life to prayer and contemplation; and as he 
had no son to take his place he consented to 
dispose of his entire stock at a great sacrifice. 
Even for less than they cost, so that now they 
repose just over the threshold here in a little 
cabinet and will certainly delight the kind gen- 
tleman's eyes, if he will just come inside. Does 
he smoke cigarettes'? If the gentleman will 
deign to smoke one of these fragrant delicacies 
from the engraved box held before him he will 
never smoke any other brand. And they are 
so cheap, monsieur ! The merchant could send 
ten thousand to the gentleman's home address 
in any country and they would not only make 
their possessor happy, but would also delight 
his friends. Does madam smoke? Ah, see the 
delicate cigarettes that are smoked by the Turk- 
ish ladies, does madam not care to take them 
home to her friends'? Yes, lady, these are the 
same that are smoked in the harems, the finest 
cigarettes in all the world. And rugs ! Will 
monsieur not inspect a collection that has lately 
arrived from Bagdad and Teheran? They are 



324 The Spell of Egypt 

priceless, but it is a very bad season, the mer- 
chant needs a little money, so lie would be glad 
to sell rugs for half their value. It is a splendid 
opportunity to obtain some of the finest speci- 
mens that ever went out of the East. 

So on and on, one is addressed by the motley 
crew that has something to sell. The mer- 
chants do not merely make an announcement of 
what they have in stock, nor do they depend 
upon the display in the front of their tiny 
booths. They beg and they implore eloquently 
enough, and apparently they speak all the lan- 
guages of Christendom, rarely making a mis- 
take when addressing a prospective customer, 
but usually greeting him cheerily in the lan- 
guage with which he is familiar. And they are 
usually cheats and robbers, particularly the 
Mohammedans. They would count it a good 
day when they were able to take a Christian's 
money for what was worthless, doubtless drop- 
ping to their knees and thanking Allah for send- 
ing them such a customer and imploring him to 
send them another from whom they can get a 
larger amount. But they are bom dealers and 
traders. They delight in wrangling and words 
over every transaction, always declaring in hu- 
mility that they have been cheated, but often 
enough protesting, after they have made a profit 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 325 



of fifty percent, that they were willing to lose in 
the deal, for the pleasure that it gave them to 
see a treasure in the kind gentleman's hand. 

The Muski has the characteristics of all 
other bazars, although it is larger than the rest 
of them outside of Damascus and Constan- 
tinople. Perhaps it would be nearer the truth 
to say that other bazars are miniatures and 
copies of the Muski. Some of the stall-like 
booths are larger than commonly seen in Ori- 
ental bazars, but there are the same heaps of 
goods from the floor to the ceiling, the same dis- 
order and confusion, the same suggestion of 
what would ordinarily pass for a junk-shop or 
second-hand store in America. The principal 
thoroughfare is wider than usual, but there are 
tiny alleys leading into it, in reality a part of 
the famous street, little nooks and corners that 
are jammed full of merchandise, often a single 
merchant having his entire stock in a space that 
resembles a large trunk or packing case. In 
places the street is roofed over, and elsewhere 
there are gaudy banners and awnings that pro- 
tect it from the sun. There are sections de- 
voted to the sale of red slippers, for example, 
and one goes some distance before he finds 
booths devoted to wooden shoes inlaid with 
mother-of-pearl, or yellow slippers, sandals or 



326 The Spell of Egypt 

other footwear. Whole sections are devoted to 
the goldsmith's bazaar, to silver- smiths, head- 
gear, saddlery, embroidery, perfume, silks, 
brass or about anything else. Also different 
sections are operated by different nationalities, 
and sometimes chiefly patronized by men of 
their own countries ; thus the Greek is likely to 
find a Greek for his neighbour and he is certain 
of Greek patronage if he carries stock that 
Greeks require — which is true to a certain ex- 
tent of other races. 

After traversing the Muski, which runs per- 
haps a mile through the most densely popu- 
lated section of the city, I emerged, just as I 
knew I would, for I had often taken the same 
route, underneath the Citadel, that majestic pile 
of buildings on a ridge of the Mukattam hills 
which pierce the eastern horizon of Cairo. 
Once, perhaps, the Citadel frowned on Cairo, 
and its builder, Saladin, no doubt believed 
when he was bringing the stone for it from 
the smaller pyramids at Gizeh, a favourite 
''quarry" for all modem builders of the vi- 
cinity, that it would answer all the purposes of 
a fortress. But its ''frown" today is a satiri- 
cal one. The hills rise beyond it and it would 
be quickly reduced if shelled from the heights 
beyond. The Citadel, which is pierced from 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 327 

the interior by the Turkish minarets of the 
mosque of Mehemet Ali, is scarcely a fort or a 
palace today. Soldiers are quartered there, 
and it is a gloomy place in view of what trans- 
pired within its walls during its day of gran- 
deur. Nevertheless, like everything else in 
Egypt, it exercises its lure and fascination. To 
say that one cannot see it without feeling its 
magnet drawing him closer and closer would be 
an exaggeration, for the Citadel seems always 
present away off there in the East. I have 
looked at it from a dahabiyeh floating slowly 
along the Nile in the early morning, when it 
seemed like a fantastic rose-pink dream-palace, 
its beautiful lines just distinct enough to prove 
that it was a reality, I have often enough looked 
up to it from various environs of Cairo, from 
the opposite side of the river, and I have pene- 
trated to its heart, sat around its ancient stones 
and thought of momentous events that have con- 
tributed to the history of the world, when mighty 
men plotted their spectacular deeds and exe- 
cuted them either within or beyond its mighty 
walls. But one who can come to its base and 
not feel the desire to go up through the Bab-al- 
Azab and either to its chambers or to the terrace 
by the onyx mosque, has not begun his day as 
mine had begun. Here was a genuine day of 



328 The Spell of Egypt 

adventure. It had begun with the circus parade 
in the Ezbekiyah and the morning hours had 
brought me into the Muski. Now, with the sun 
at meridian, I found myself between those high 
walls thatj silent today, once witnessed one of the 
bloodiest and most spectacular massacres of 
history. If I had been wandering in the fairy- 
land of the Arabian Nights, now suddenly I had 
plunged into romantic drama more sensational 
and bloody than playwright has ventured to 
place upon the stage, fearing to tax the credu- 
lity of his audience. Once an English play- 
wright was laughed out of court because he had 
nine of the characters in his drama meet violent 
deaths in one act. Nine! What then of four 
hundred and seventy men of power, position 
and distinction slaughtered in one night? And 
it was of this tale that the cold high walls 
seemed to whisper to me as I sat in their shade 
at noontime. 

This was no ordinary slaughter set in dark 
alleys with flashing blades reflected in dim 
street lamps. It was none of those common 
orders to soldiers to go forth, drag women and 
children from their homes and cut their heads 
off. Here was a plot worthy of the imagination 
of a Sardou, one that required a clever man to 
execute it. One thinks of the Roman who was 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 329 

condemned to death, but who preferred that the 
end should come while he was making merry at 
the banquet table with his friends, while roses 
were being pelted across the table and girls 
danced. With his favourite at his side, he 
opened a vein in his wrist and when life was 
departing, attempted to rise to his feet with the 
flowing bowl at arm's length. With such a 
stage setting, the massacre of the Mamelukes 
was accomplished, fulfilment of one of the 
darkest plots of history. 

The Mamelukes, as the name indicates, were 
formerly slaves, either purchased or captured 
in war, but in time became so powerful that they, 
reached the throne and ruled Egypt for cen- 
turies. Even after they no longer sat on the 
throne, they were still a power to be reckoned 
with, and their oppression and dissolute conduct 
still had, its influence in the land. Mehemet 
Ali, an Albanian who served in the Turkish 
army at an early age, had been elected Pasha of 
Egypt by the people, and his election had been 
confirmed by the Porte. He entered Egypt 
bearing the rank of Major, but rapidly gained 
authority, and in 1805 found himself ruler of 
the land of the Pharaohs. But his rule was 
hampered by the still powerful Mamelukes, so 
he planned the coup that would rid the country 



330 The Spell of Egypt 

of them forever, and altliougli many of them had 
executed brilliant plottings of a similar nature, 
proving themselves to be wily Orientals worthy 
of the traditions of their race, they fell easy vic- 
tims to his scheme for their extermination. All 
the Mamelukes of power or position were de- 
coyed into the Citadel, four hundred and 
seventy of them, presumably to witness the cere- 
mony of investing his son Tusun with a pelisse 
and the command of the army, and Mohammed 
Ali received them cordially, even with honours 
which they thought belonged to their rank. 
They drank coffee together in Oriental fashion 
and were then invited by their host to form 
themselves into a procession. Escorted by 
the Pasha's troops, they filed between these 
stone walls. Mehemet Ali remained behind, 
presumably to attend to some detail of the 
ceremony with his son. When the procession 
reached the gate and after the soldiers had 
passed beyond it, the portal suddenly closed 
before them. The Mamelukes soon realized 
that they had been caught in a trap, but escape 
was impossible. The soldiers quickly ran 
around to an advantageous position and acting 
on orders from their commander, opened fire on 
the powerless guests. In a short time the 
Mamelukes were either shot, or, if they tried to 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 331 

escape, cut down with the sword. Only one 
man is said to have escaped, and he did so by 
driving a spur into his horse which leaped over 
the stone wall into the rubbish of the moat be- 
low. The fall is said to have killed the horse, 
but the rider survived and carried the story of 
the frightful slaughter to his people. And 
through it all the Pasha sat in his hall, contem- 
porary records telling that he showed not the 
least sign of emotion, beyond twitching a piece 
of paper nervously in his hands, although the 
cries of the dying must have echoed through his 
chamber window. 

Out in the desert, beyond the Citadel, are the 
mosque tombs in which the Mamelukes' sultans 
were placed after death. They are mute things, 
some of them of splendid design. The sand 
drifts around them, and they seem to raise their 
minarets in a silent appeal toward Mecca, but 
apparently Mecca does not see them. They are 
rapidly passing to decay, cracking and crum- 
bling, and they would seem to be quite deserted 
but for the beggars who crawl into their 
shadows to find protection at night from the 
winds that blow over the desert, and the tour- 
ists who come out from the agencies, for while 
they were almost overlooked by earlier visitors 
to Cairo they are now listed as one of the rou- 



332 The Spell of Egypt 

tine sights of the environs of the capital city, 
both by day and by night. Perhaps a moon- 
light night is the best time to see them, for then 
they appear to be stately ruins, and there is a 
strange fascination to the drive through the 
sands that brings one to their bases from the 
busy streets of Cairo around the midnight hour. 
But the memory of the Mamelukes is not cher- 
ished by the Egyptians, and the feeling is con- 
veyed to Egyptian visitors, who are likely to 
give their tombs but a glance in even a lengthy 
itinerary of Cairo. 

I went along to the terrace in front of the 
great yellow marble mosque that bears Me- 
hemet All's name. All of Cairo lay out there 
before me in the yellow sunshine. Away off in 
the distance the Nile squirmed its way to north 
and south like a great jeweled serpent. Over 
beyond it I could see many pyramids, now look- 
ing like great cubes of amber. Off to the south 
was a large group of date-palms like a big green 
splotch in the yellow sand. That was once the 
proud city of Memphis, perhaps the oldest 
metropolis of Egypt. Little remains today of 
that fortunately situated city, doubtless founded 
soon after the invading hordes had swept over 
the land from Arabia in the earliest march of 
civilization westward, a city ''on the opposite 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 333 

side of the river, ' ' when crossing the stream was 
such an important factor in warfare and con- 
quest, one far enough inland to control the rich 
upper country and yet near enough to the sea 
to profit by all the good things from the rich 
Nile Delta. Diodorus speaks of the green 
meadows of Memphis, its canals and pavements 
of lotus flowers. Pliny tells of its wonders, 
and of its wine which became celebrated in for- 
eign lands. Herodotus mentions the gigantic 
temple of Ptah, but its chief reminder today is 
the prostrate statue of Eameses II, which 
doubtless adorned the temple entrance. The 
statue is forty-two feet in length, and was once 
presented to the British Museum, but its enor- 
mous bulk and weight made transportation im- 
possible, so it lay prostrate in the sand, each 
year's Nile flood threatening to cover it from 
sight. Finally, through private subscription in 
Cairo, it was raised to a height where injury 
would be impossible on account of floods, and to- 
day it lies there seemingly suspended in air, a 
pathetic spectacle and a reminder of the de- 
parted day. The circuit of the city, according 
to Diodorus, was thirteen miles, but the circum- 
ference so described, today closely resembles 
the rest of the land that borders the Nile, clumps 
of date-palms, a few ruins, the statue of 



334 The Spell of Egypt 

Eameses and the tombs of the Apis bulls once 
worshiped there. Most travelers, however, 
like to touch their feet on the ancient soil of 
Memphis, and the short excursion is an easy 
one, either by boat on the river, or by railway 
which brings visitors to Badrashen, one of the 
two villages which marks the ancient site. 

As I sat there on the terrace and looked six 
thousand years behind me, I vowed to visit the 
Memphite desert again. And the pyramids ! I 
would devote one day to a visit to each of them. 
The next time I came to the Citadel it should be 
either at dawn or at night. I wanted to see how 
magical Cairo would rise from the valley when 
warmed by the morning sun ; just how it would 
fade from sight after sunset, until the lights of 
the city began to twinkle along the boulevards 
and avenues. For I had looked from this 
height only in the blazing light of day. Yes, 
and I would wander back to Old Cairo and go 
back to Ehoda Island again. I dared not pro- 
long the wish even in mind, but I permitted the 
desire to flash through my thoughts that I could 
go down to the river's brink and begin the long 
rise that would again take me to the charmed 
spots of the upper country. And this musing 
was fairly typical of that of other days. Each 
day was crowded full of joys, but each joy 




OBELISK OP HELIOPOLIS. 



Yellow Days and Azure Nights 335 

seemed to be freighted with regrets and long- 
ings. After all, the time had been too short; 
and I knew perfectly well that the time would 
have been too short if it had been twice as long. 
There was so much to do, so much to see, and 
the desire to return and repeat observations and 
experiences was so great that each day and hour 
only added to the multitude of desires that 
flooded themselves upon me. 

Suddenly in my reverie I glanced off to the 
north. There was Heliopolis. Yes, I would go 
there again, if time did not permit me the other 
ramblings that I was vaguely outlining. Heliop- 
olis! I had remained there two hours, and 
the wise men of ancient Greece counted it a 
pleasure to remain for many years in an at- 
tempt to absorb its mysteries; and, like other 
thoughtless tourists, I had glanced at the obelisk 
of Assuan granite, which I knew marked the 
site of the city of On of G-enesis xii, 45, glanced 
at the spot where the ''Virgin's tree" stood 
until 1906, the traditional spot where the Holy 
Mother rested during her flight into Egypt. I 
had given a passing thought to the fact that the 
city once boasted the wealthiest and largest 
temple in Egypt and that the Jewish lad who 
interpreted the Pharaoh's dream received as his 
reward the hand of the daughter of the high 



336 The SpeU of Egypt 

priest of this temple. But that was not enough. 
That visit had been one that the seven-day 
tripper to Cairo might have paid to the ancient 
shrine. I would go again. I vowed it, and sit 
there as I was sitting by the onyx mosque, pay- 
ing no attention to the people, keeping my ears 
dumb to the sounds of the present, and strain- 
ing my eyes to see something of that past which 
seems to have departed, not to return again. 

But this was only the influence of Egypt. I 
knew well enough when I would leave Egyptian 
shores, and I knew that I had tarried too long by 
the wayside to return again to the scenes that 
left fond memories and the yearning for a re- 
visiting. A bugle's shrill trumpeting brought 
me back to realities and I began the prowl along 
the streets that had brought me to the heights 
of the Citadel. But one reaches the heights 
only to come back again to the level of a me- 
andering river. It seems to be a law of life; 
at least a law that is as old as Egypt. And, 
when I reached the hotel terrace again, it was 
the fashionable hour for driving and walking. 
Again the circus parade was passing through 
the Ezbekiyah, and I ended another Cairo day as 
I had begun it, full of enjoyment of the hour, 
but fuller in anticipation of what was yet to 
come. 




CHAPTER XVII 

BEYOND HUMAN" KNOWLEDGE 

'NE of the favourite methods of ** seeing" 
Cairo and the vicinity is by tram-car, just 
as one of the favourite methods of reach- 
ing the Sphinx and pyramids at Gizeh is by 
trolley. Fashions change in Cairo in this mat- 
ter of transportation, although they seem to re- 
main about the same in everything else. *' Mo- 
tive power" over the vast sandy wastes of the 
desert is what it must have been when travel be- 
gan hereabouts. The monuments prove that 
even the form of the Nile boat, called the daha- 
biyeh, has not changed since those days when 
ancient kings thought it was necessary to make 
the journey to the next world in a boat, thus 
copying it from the only craft they knew, that 
which covered the breast of the Nile. But the 
"taint" of civilization has had its effect in the 
capital city. It is no longer de rigeur to mount 
a donkey in front of one's hotel for a pilgrimage 
about the streets of the metropolis. Electric 
cars hum throughout the city over a network of 

337 



338 The Spell of Egypt 

lines that carry the natives or the visitor almost 
anywhere that he may care to go. One may see 
Cairo from these open-air chariots, and one may 
go to almost any of the shrines of the city's en- 
virons in the same way. And the agencies and 
''progressive" dragomen encourage the prac- 
tice, so the cars are usually filled from early 
morning until late at night with a crowd that 
not only reflects the variety of the population, 
but also the international character of its visi- 
tors. 

Trams are usually counted a part of the 
"desecration" of Cairo by those old-fashioned 
penmen who would prefer that the upper Nile 
valley had no water so that PhilaB might be 
preserved, although it might have caused the 
starvation of the bronze-skinned natives who 
are thought to be more "picturesque" when 
they are half-starved, because they have no 
means of procuring food, and naked, because 
they cannot afford rags to drape over their 
shoulders. It is a "shock" to find very clean 
and well managed trolley cars running hither 
and thither, but as often observed, this is a land 
of shocks and surprises, and, like most of the 
others, this discovery that one may climb into a 
very comfortable car and slide along to the tune 
of a clanging bell to the base of a monument 



Beyond Human Knowledge 339 

that antedates known human history, is ex- 
hilarating and must quicken the thoughts of any 
one who has not become moss-covered in his con- 
templation of the past, while remaining blind 
to the glorious present and future. 

The trolley makes it possible for the plodding 
fellaheen to cover ground in a few minutes that 
would take them hours, if they dragged their 
weary legs through the sandy paths, as was 
formerly a necessity. For a few pennies, the 
visitor to Cairo may board a car and be whisked 
away into the sacred past, and although the ride 
has been much more rapid than could have been 
the case if he sat upon the back of an Egyptian 
donkey, with a boy running along at its heels, 
endeavouring by constant clubbing to keep it in 
motion, the sacred and ancient spots reached by 
trolley are just as sacred and ancient as those 
reached by camel or donkey. And perhaps the 
shock caused by contact is something that the 
leisurely and luxurious traveler never feels. 

I have visited the Sphinx and the pyramids 
many times, and I have made the trip from 
Cairo in many ways, ranging all the way from 
a stroll, which always has its compensations in 
Egypt or any other country, and is the most de- 
pendable method of transportation known to 
man. I have come to the base of the great mon- 



340 The Spell of Egypt 

uments on a camel that deposited me ''at the 
paws of the Sphinx" and then proceeded on its 
way with the rest of the train into the desert 
beyond. I have made the journey in a beau- 
tifully upholstered landau drawn by Arab 
steeds, with gaudily bedecked coachmen sitting 
on the box. I have sat in the shadow of these 
mighty producers of imagination at all times 
of day and night and I have viewed them from 
the short distance of that fashionable hotel near 
the great pyramid, at dawn, high noon, sunset, 
twilight and the witching hour of night. And 
I am not at all certain that the trolley ride from 
Cairo was not the most enjoyable experience of 
all. The trolley seems to pass out of the very 
core of Cairo, and then, by an electric shock, 
transport the newcomer into the past at least 
seven thousand years. And where else on earth 
would such a sensation and realization be pos- 
sible ! 

After passing through the always colourful 
streets and avenues of the city, the car crosses 
the big iron bridge over the river and soon 
plunges along a tropical and well-kept park 
where flowers are always blooming and palms 
wave their lace-like fronds. Coming down the 
road is that wonderful procession of the fella- 
heen bringing their produce to market, or weird 



Beyond Human Knowledge 341 

types from the desert who are headed toward 
the city and either have not the few pennies that 
would be required of them for carfare or decline 
to be so extravagant, when time counts for so 
little and the path is so well paved. As the car 
passes along the beautiful avenue, bordered by 
trees and "the best land in Egypt" under in- 
tensive cultivation by these sons of the sun, 
long trains of camels are met at any time of 
day. They bear burdens of unbelievable bulk 
and weight and pass disdainfully along, barely 
glancing at the car unless a motorman clangs 
the bell to frighten them, causing them to snort 
and flop their lower lips, apparently in disgust 
at this modern competition. Their drivers pro- 
nounce a vociferous curse upon the drivers of 
tram-cars, and the yellow man at the front of 
the car answers him with another clang of the 
bell. It is said that this beautiful highway to 
Gizeh was embellished and improved at the time 
of the visit to Egypt of the Empress Eugenie, 
whose pilgrimage to this country had much the 
same effect as the visit of the Kaiser to the 
Holy Land. Many dates are reckoned from the 
eventful occasions, and it has not been long 
enough since that time for roads to have fallen 
back into their customary condition, for notori- 
ously these Eastern governments are diligent 



342 The Spell of Egypt 

collectors of taxes for ' ' good roads, ' ' and notori- 
ously the funds disappear before they accom- 
plish the object for which they were collected, 
leaving the roads to become worse and more im- 
passable until that day arrives when some cele- 
brated visitor announces his intention to make a 
sojourn, whereupon the government, seemingly 
ashamed of itself for its neglect, makes a few 
repairs that must last until another royal per- 
sonage threatens to shake his bones over almost 
impassable highways. 

The trolley deposits its passengers at the end 
of the avenue of trees, where automobiles and 
vehicles of all sorts are also obliged to stop. 
There is a paved circular roadway that curves 
its way to the great pyramid of Cheops. Just 
why this charmed way is reserved for the feet 
of camels and men, with no wheels permitted to 
touch it, is something of a question. But doubt- 
less it is one of those questions that may be an- 
swered by the Arab proverb : ' ' AU men must 
live." There is a so-called sheik of the pyra- 
mids, whether self-appointed or born to his 
honour, I know not; but I do know that unless 
he is vastly different from all Oriental sheiks, 
he exacts a plentiful tribute from that mob of 
Arabs and Bedouins who loiter at the end of the 
road in wait for the traveler. Usually, when 



I 




t-#^ 



.^'b.v.. 



Jt 



BEDOUINS AT THE PYRAMIDS. 



Beyond Human Knowledge 343 

there is any point of interest in an outlying dis- 
trict in Egypt, Arabia or Syria, an encampment 
springs up as if by magic, and even the agencies 
and guide-books advise the stranger to pay at 
least a slight toll that will be demanded of them. 
I have seen these ragged beggars lounging 
before some stately temple or tomb, which ap- 
parently lies so far beyond the beaten path that 
the government merely exercises "supervi- 
sion," rising up and demanding fees and their 
services as guides and servants as if they were 
showmen before their own tents charging ad- 
mission for something that they owned. Gizeh 
is too near to Cairo for the case to be similar, 
yet the condition is the same for the inexperi- 
enced traveler. The flock of men, some of 
whom have gaily caparisoned camels, and 
others by the dozen, each of whom protests that 
he is "the best guide," pounce upon each new 
arrival and literally hound him into submission. 
Perhaps he may want to visit the pyramids and 
Sphinx alone that his first impression and other 
impressions may not be hampered by the bab- 
bling of a "guide" or interpreter. Perhaps he 
has had some experience with these pestiferous 
Bedouins who assume to own what has had no 
owner for thousands of years, and believes that 
he knows how to deal with them. He antici- 



344 The Spell of Egypt 

pates that lie will defy them. He will threaten 
to call the police, hit them, or threaten to hit 
them with his walking-stick or deal more sum- 
marily with them if they become too arrogant. 
But all his experience with others will count 
for nothing when he comes to the base of the 
pyramids. Shake your stick at them and they 
laugh ; threaten to report them to the police and 
they look up with a pitying expression which 
seems to say: ''Why waste your breath and 
time with such nonsense T' It is a time-hon- 
oured privilege this ''escorting" of visitors 
around the ancient cemetery in which a com- 
paratively few tombstones and monuments re- 
main. Just how one obtains the privilege is 
difficult to tell. One guide told me that his 
father and grandfather had spent their lives in 
the same occupation. Another told me that he 
had left his family far off in the desert only 
three years ago and come to the pyramids to 
spend the remainder of his life, although he was 
a youth of perhaps twenty years. Another 
"guide," who rode back to Cairo with me one 
day, owned a first-class store, as stores go in 
Cairo, but he could not afford to spend his time 
there, so engaged clerks to operate it for him, 
while he went daily to the base of the pyramids 
and joined that bewildering aggregation whose 



Beyond Human Knowledge 345 

principal object in life seems to be to annoy 
travelers and extract money from them either 
for voluntary services rendered or for making 
themselves such a nuisance that payment to re- 
tire is the result. It is argued that a large per- 
centage of their earnings go to the sheik, and 
doubtless he, in turn, would protest that he is 
obliged to pay a heavy tribute to the "man 
higher up ' ' for retaining his position. But the 
fact remains that Gizeh is a prosperous little 
community, as Arab and Bedouin life go, and 
most of the swarm of men at the end of the ave- 
nue doubtless fare better than they would at any 
other employment. 

I am certain, after many experiences, that my 
first tactics were those that may best recom- 
mend themselves to the traveler who wants to 
enjoy any degree of solitude or privacy. I 
thought the best way to do would be to pay no 
attention to the pleas and entreaties and go 
about my business. There is an open path. 
One may follow it, and, tramping through the 
deep sand, one naturally suspects that after a 
time, even the Arab or Bedouin guide who re- 
ceives no encouragement or intimation that his 
services are required, will turn about and look 
for more lucrative employment. But one who 
reasons in this way does not know the Oriental 



346 The SpeU of Egypt 

nature. After I had brushed my way through 
the gesticulating and noisy throng and rapidly 
ascended the hill towards the great tomb of 
Cheops, I turned a moment and looked about me. 
Two men with camels and five guides were at 
my side and renewed their wrangling and pro- 
testations of efficiency. I explained to them 
that I was coming again to the pyramids many 
times, and that on other occasions each of them 
should have the privilege, which they seemed 
to covet, of showing me about. Yes, I would 
even ride on the camels, I promised the drivers. 
But not today! Just for once I wanted to be 
alone, but I might as well have argued with the 
stones before me. I hastened on, but they also 
hastened and kept up their pleading. I hopped 
over big stones and into the crevices between 
stones, but the men hopped along at the same 
gait and the drivers of camels led their awk- 
ward beasts by little paths that fetched up at 
my side when I stopped. It was no use. So I 
decided to try another method. Picking out the 
likeliest of the lot, I asked: ''What's your 
name ? ' ' 

' ' Me name is Hassan. ' ' 
"And you say you are a guide?" 
"The best guide at the pyramids. These 
men, they do not spika da English, only pretend. 



Beyond Human Knowledge 347 



They say: 'howdy-do, kind meester' bnt when 
yon say to them; 'how high is that sphin-cnsT 
they cannot tell, and they do not know what you 
say, never mind, very good." 

"Then, Hassan, you shall be my guide, if you 
can send all the others away." 

Almost before the words left my mouth Has- 
san was pouring abuse upon the heads of the 
others. 

''Just a minute, Hassan," I interrupted, 
*'what will be your charge?" 

"Just what the kind meester wants to give 
me. A shilling, two shilling, or three, just as 
you please; never mind, all right." 

The other men sneered at me, as Hassan grew 
exasperated. In their lingo, strongly tinted 
with Arabic, they seemed to be unanimous in 
the belief that I had picked the poorest guide of 
all. The camel men assured me that I would 
grow weary on foot and would be glad to sit in a 
saddle. But the men evidently did not know 
that I had sat in a saddle on the back of a camel 
for fourteen hours at a stretch and the thought 
of a repetition of that torture was exasperat- 
ing. 

"Hassan, remember, you are my guide only 
after the others have left," I reminded the stal- 
wart young man, and my words were to his ears 



348 The Spell of Egypt 

what the bugle is to a trained military horse. 
He reached over, carefully selected two large 
rocks and then in a tempestuous tone of voice, 
warned them to be out of his range in a hurry 
or he would throw the rocks at them. Now I 
believed at the time that he meant to do exactly 
as he threatened to do ; and apparently the men 
were of the same opinion. They scampered 
over the stone as rapidly as they had come, and 
doubtless began to pester the next victim who 
arrived at the end of the road. 

Hassan was a quiet fellow. He followed at 
my heels during the hours that passed, but he 
spoke only when he was spoken to. I selected 
my own route and he merely kept close enough 
to me to make it apparent to any *' guides" we 
met that he was in my employ and that I was 
being "entertained" in the best Arab or Bed- 
ouin fashion. Once or twice some gentleman 
out of a job came up and began to repeat the 
' * applications for employment ' ' that were so im- 
pressive in the first instance, but Hassan was 
keenly aware of the responsibilities of his posi- 
tion and I let him do the arguing. He was more 
of an adept at that than any white man may 
hope to be. 

''When the gentleman, he want to climb to 
the top of the pyramid, I will go with him, but 



Beyond Human Knowledge 349 

I know the best pyramid climber in Egypt. We 
will have him, yes ? " 

''Not today, Hassan, tomorrow or the next 
day, some other time. Today we will wander 
about as we are doing now. Tell me, what is 
this tomb?" 

We were in that colossal cemetery of old 
Memphis. It was not exactly as I had been led 
to expect. There were the pyramids. We 
were leaning against the stones of the tremen- 
dous pile of Cheops, and away off as far as we 
could see, there were other pyramids, great rows 
and groups of them extending along the Nile 
for twenty-five miles, it being the calculation of 
the scholars that Egypt had about seventy-five 
of them that were large enough to be reckoned 
as world-wonders. But what surprised me 
first of all was the veritable catacombs that lie 
at the bases of the great heaps of stone at Gizeh. 
The rocky ground seems to be literally honey- 
combed with the tombs now plundered of all they 
once contained, but doubtless the last resting- 
places of the courtiers of the day when the pyra- 
mids were being built, priestly gentlemen and 
men whose labours resulted in the time-defying 
monuments. 

One peers into a few of these hewn caverns, 
sees the inscriptions on the walls understood 



350 The SpeU of Egypt 

only by scholars, but after a while the task seems 
futile. One would not and could not see them 
all, and there is an irresistible grandeur to the 
monster work of them all that draws the visitor 
back to it. Just as time and space are almost 
beyond human comprehension, so is this marvel- 
ous heap of sandstone. Many myths concern- 
ing it have been circulated and come down to us 
by repetition until there is almost the tendency 
to believe some of them. There are scholars 
who maintain that the pyramid of Cheops was 
built as an astronomical observatory. Others 
say that its dimensions served as standards of 
measurement. The most enlightened opinion 
of today has it, however, that it was merely a 
stately tomb for a king — ^this and nothing more. 
But what a tomb! "What a brain to have con- 
ceived it, and to have seen it erected in the 
imagination, when the stone was being quarried 
and dragged to the heights by slaves forced to do 
the king's bidding! 

The giant was erected about 3733 b. c. Has- 
san tells me that somebody has figured that it 
contains about eighty-five million cubic feet of 
stone. An ancient writer declared that its build- 
ing required the labour of one hundred thousand 
men for three months each year for ten years, 
the supposition being that they were employed 



Beyond Human Knowledge 351 

in this manner when the Nile flood was so high 
that they could not cultivate their fields. Each 
stone was pulled up the hill, neatly hewn into 
shape and drawn into place by men who worked 
heneath the lash. How they groaned and toiled ! 
How can the heap of stone remain so silent when 
it has known such suffering and pain! And 
how can anything be so beautiful, awe-inspiring 
and majestic, when it was produced by such 
agony and tears! One marvels, but after a 
while one passes on, as he has done so often be- 
fore in Egypt. One cannot remain to solve 
each mystery even to his own satisfaction, for 
even this would take eternity — and the days pass 
here as they pass elsewhere. 

It is a sandy walk to the second pyramid of 
the group, which, owing to its location on a knoll, 
makes it seem to be even larger than that of 
Cheops. Here was the tomb of Chephren, dat- 
ing from about 3666 b. c. And on beyond is the 
third, the pyramid of Mycerinus, dating from 
3633 B. c. 

Dates and individuals seem to mean nothing. 
One sits down in their shade and looks up at 
their towering peaks with such massive bases. 
Their colours change. Now in the light of noon 
they seem to be the yellow of sulphur. One 
morning they looked like great heaps of snow. 



352 The SpeU of Egypt 

And then at twilight they were flushed with a 
rose-pink hue that turned to amethyst and 
mauve as the shadows deepened, finally seeming 
to be huge mountains of coal. 

''They, after all, are the marvels of Egypt,'* 
I said to Hassan, as we plodded along in the 
sand, after many minutes of silence. Hassan 
smiled with superior wisdom. 

"You have not yet seen the Sphin-cus, 
meester. ' ' No Arab seems to have mastered the 
English word for the colossal image of Ra-Har- 
machis in one syllable. It is the ''Sphin-cus" 
to all of them, even to many Egyptian gentle- 
men whose English is otherwise perfect and 
from which even a foreign accent has disap- 
peared. 

No, I had not seen the Sphinx. And I had 
not seen it purposely. Familiar photographs 
of the pyramids usually show the grim coun- 
tenance of this most ancient of stone images that 
bear a human resemblance, and the anticipation 
of the stranger must be that he will behold one 
when he sees the other. But this is not so, and 
one who sees the Sphinx must hunt for him. 
There he is, stretching his great paws toward 
the Nile, and, when discovered, he seems to be 
resting in the shadow of the largest pyramid. 
Yet one may circle the pyramid and go to those 



Beyond Human Knowledge 353 

beyond without coming upon that sinister face 
that rises majestically from the sand where it 
was seemingly buried until discovered. The 
reason is that a mound of sand rises between the 
base of the pyramid and the image, which lies 
on the slope of the hill. 

**Sphin-cus over there under the hill," said 
Hassan pointing to the southeast. 

I hesitated, and the Arab thought that I was 
tired. ''Come, meester, and there we can sit in 
the shade of the Sphin-cus." 

* 'Yes, Hassan, we can sit there and have a long 
rest." 

Hassan did not know and he could not have 
understood. The time had come at last. For 
months I had been basking in the sunshine of 
Egypt, enjoying every moment of the experi- 
ence ; but, after all, now that I had arrived within 
a few yards of the Sphinx, which was still hid- 
den from sight, I felt as if all else had been 
preparation and probation. During the other 
days I had been lingering in the courtyard of the 
temple or merely crossed its threshold. Now I 
had passed through its inner chambers, arrived 
at the sanctuary and was about to be initiated 
into the eternal mystery. I was about to gaze 
on those features that were old when Abraham 
came to Egypt, because there was famine in the 



354 The Spell of Egypt 

land beyond. I was to see the face that directed 
its grim eyes toward the Nile before Moses was 
found floating in his ark of bulrushes. At last 
I was to come into the presence of the image of 
Ea-Harmachis, the god of the rising sun, the 
conqueror of darkness, the god that greets the 
day. And it was not by chance that I had saved 
it for the end of the program. I knew that I 
should come back again many times, that I 
should see the Sphinx in many lights and at 
many angles ; but I also knew that there would 
be no later impression like the first. It was to 
be the grand climax of Egypt for me, so I asked 
the guide to remain far behind. It was noon 
and there were no tourists about. I would be 
alone ; and, as I went down the hill, I felt as if 
I was going down the stairway of a temple that 
would take me to the beginning of the world. 

And the Sphinx did not disappoint ine. It 
was as haughty and disdainful as I had been 
led to believe. If a thousand emperors of this 
world had passed to pay it homage it would have 
remained the same. It has suffered disfigure- 
ment at the hands of thoughtless men, but other- 
wise it ignores man's presence on the earth. 
Man is an upstart by comparison, and this aris- 
tocrat of the desert thinks of nothing so short- 
lived as man. Serene and calm it broods over 



Beyond Human Knowledge 355 

Egypt, for the Nile valley is its home, and it 
will guard that through eternity. 

Maspero told me that, in his opinion, the 
Sphinx is at least seven thousand years old. An 
older generation ascribed it to the kings of the 
middle empire, but when a stele was found re- 
cording repairs made upon it by Thothmes IV, 
it became certain that it belonged to the ancient 
empire, and it is now the opinion that it dates 
from the pre-dynastic period. It is hewn out 
of the living rock, although pieces were added 
to it where necessary, and it was doubtless sug- 
gested to its sculptor by the form of the natural 
rock. Perhaps its face was painted red, for 
traces of the ancient scarlet flush still remain, 
and there are evidences that its head was cov- 
ered with ornaments which may have had a re- 
ligious significance. It is seventy feet high, one 
hundred and fifty feet long, and its face is four- 
teen feet wide. Mohammedan rulers of Egypt 
caused its face to be used as a target, and Na- 
poleon's soldiers are said to have fired at it in 
sport. The nose is gone and the features are 
defaced. But even the ruthless hand of man 
cannot alter its superb dignity. 

After I had waited beside the Sphinx for an 
hour, I went on to the temple of the Sphinx, the 
structure that has been dug from the sand before 



356 The Spell of Egypt 

tlie stone creature's paws. And this was but 
another temple, although perhaps it is the oldest 
of the Egyptian sanctuaries that remain. It is 
the opinion of the scholars that there were tem- 
ples in Egypt perhaps ten thousand years ago 
on the sites of temples that still raise majestic 
columns toward the sky. In reality, the princi- 
pal interest attaching itself to this structure is 
that it is the best specimen of that architecture 
which flourished between five thousand and six 
thousand years ago. Its pillars and halls are 
not ornamented and it was likely a tomb as well 
as a house of devotion. 

Irresistibly I was drawn back to the Sphinx, 
even from the temple where priests directed his 
worship. Again I sat down and looked up at 
its face and between those paws where an an- 
cient legend says the Holy Mother placed the 
infant Jesus. 

''Meester, he will be very late and there will 
be no lunch at hotel," cautioned Hassan, when 
he saw that my attention was directed to a party 
of tourists climbing down from camels and 
grouping themselves in front of the great image 
for the snap of a camera. Suddenly their ex- 
clamations about ''the funny old boy with a 
broken nose" and ''is it a he or a sheT' seemed 
to break the spell which the Sphinx seemed to 



Beyond Human Knowledge 357 

radiate upon one who gazed upon Mm in silence. 
I had heard thoughtless tourists make slighting 
remarks when they observed kneeling Moham- 
medans in the mosques where they were ad- 
mitted, often marveling at the patience and calm 
yellow brothers whose ''fanaticism" is a pet 
topic of the Western peoples. I had even heard 
silly women with bared faces giggling and sim- 
pering in Mohammedan tombs, where the women 
of the deceased had come to mourn. But never 
in all of Egypt had anything seemed to be just 
the desecration of this herd of pleasure-seeking 
English travelers, conducting themselves as they 
might have done at a country-fair in their native 
land or in a Luna Park at home. 

I listened to Hassan and departed for the 
hotel. In the afternoon we entered the great 
pyramid, not altogether a pleasant experience, 
and then we climbed to the top. During this lat- 
ter ordeal, even my guide who had proved him- 
self to be so efficient earlier in the day, seemed 
quite powerless to keep off the swarm of ''help- 
ers," who insisted that although I had a guide 
and "the best pyramid-climber in Egypt" ac- 
companied me, I also needed a couple of "boost- 
ers." "We fought off the first noisy applicants 
for the position, by declining to climb a step so 
long as they remained, but after we had as- 



358 The Spell of Egypt 

cended half-way up, two burly Arabs appeared 
as if they had sprung up from the stones and fell 
to their self-appointed tasks as if they had been 
duly engaged. It is no great task to climb the 
pyramid of Cheops, if one have a guide who 
directs the route, but a ledge of stone in mid- 
air is no fit place for a single man considered a 
"Christian dog" to attempt to quarrel with a 
group of insistent Mohammedan Arabs. So I 
was boosted and pulled to the pinnacle of stone, 
a flat surface about thirty feet square, and what- 
ever annoyance had been caused by the gentle- 
men who felt that an American had at least a 
shilling in his pocket that belonged to them, 
there was compensation in the view of Egypt 
from the last height that I expected to reach in 
the land of the Pharaohs. 

I knew that it was a farewell glance at the yel- 
low Nile and that yellow country off near Mem- 
phis where the thousands of date-palms wave. 
We sat there until the sun began to fade, Hassan 
and I, and he did not speak after we had dis- 
posed of the assisting brethren who went to look 
for other clients. Evidently Hassan had told 
the ''pyramid climber" that I was a strange 
man who did not want to be spoken to, for they 
sat there silently and patiently with their feet 
dangling over the side of the carved stones. 



Beyond Human Knowledge 359 

When I gave the signal to start, Hassan said 
that for one dollar his companion would run 
down the pyramid and to the top of the second 
in a very few minutes — ^I forget the number for 
I wanted to see no such prowess. There was 
but one thing I did want, and that was to go 
down the hill again and bid good-by to Egypt. 
At least that was the way I felt when I reached 
the Sphinx again, and left him there alone in 
the purple glow that was descending about his 
head. I know that he lay there in the dark, 
crouching as if about to spring, when the darker 
night shadows were over him; but then the or- 
chestra was playing in the hotel and I did not 
go back. I know that he was there in the same 
position when he greeted the next dawn, but an 
automobile carried me away without seeing him, 
and I was soon on my way and aboard a steamer. 
I know he is there today, and will be there seven 
thousand years from today as he was seven 
thousand years ago. And I am glad that I spent 
my last Egyptian day in his company. When 
the sunset came, the past faded, and I was back 
in the present; but I had a glimpse of eternity. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Adams, Frances: The New Egypt. 

Bacon, Lee: Our Houseboat on the Nile. 

Breasted, James H. : Short History of the Egyptians. 

CoLViN, Sir Auckland: The Maldng of Modern Egypt. 

De Guerville, a. B.: New Egypt. 

Duff Gordon, Lady: Letters from Egypt. 

Edwards, Amelia B. : A Thousand Miles up the Nile. 

HiCHENS, Robert: Egypt and Its Monuments. 

Kelly, E. Talbot: Egypt. 

Lane-Pool, S. : Social Life in Egypt. 

LoTi, Pierre: Egypt. 

Low, Sidney: Egypt in Transition. 

Lynch, Jeremiah: Egyptian Sketches. 

Maspero, G. : The Dawn of Civilization. 

— Life in Ancient Egypt and Assyria. 
Penfield, F. C: Present Day Egypt. 

Petrie, W. Flinders: The Religion of Ancient Egypt. 

— Ten Years' Digging in Egypt. 
Rawlinson, G. : History of Ancient Egypt. 
Sladen, Douglas: Queer Things About Egypt. 

— Oriental Cairo. 

Stuart, H. Villiers: Nile Gleanings. 

Ward, John: Pyramids and Progress. 

Wabnee, Charles Dudley: My Winter on the Nile. 



361 



INDEX 



Abu Simbel, 213, 238, 249- 

251. 
Abydos, 224, 246. 
Abyssinia, 162. 
Aeilus Gallus, 217. 
Alexandria, 2, 28, 46-65, 

281; first lighthouse, 57; 

library at, 59; Pompey's 

Pillar, 61; Temple of 

Serapis, 59. 
Algeciras, 45. 
Amenophis III, 158. 
Amen-Ra, 226. 
Antony, 57. 
Antioch, 58. 

Aphrodite ( see Hathor ) . 
Arabian Desert, 76, 164. 
Asenath, 68. 
Assiout, 148, 150, 154, 159, 

162, 297. 
Assuan, 2, 3, 237-241. 
Atlantis, 11. 
Azores, 7-30. 

B 
Balbilla, 218. 
Bishareen, 185-193. 

C 

Cairo, 2, 3, 41, 55-56, 60, 63, 



74, 95, 103, 121-122, 126, 
132-133, 143, 146-147, 152, 
161, 253-268, 286-288, 312, 
314-316, 318, 337-340; El- 
Azhar, 283-285; Citadel, 
56, 326, 330, 334, 336; 
Ezbekiyah, 257, 266, 328, 
336; Mosque of Amr, 278, 
279, 280; Mosque of Me- 
hemet Ali, 327; Mukattan 
Hills, 326; Muski, 322-328; 
Old City, 270, 271, 277, 
278, 281, 334; Ehoda 
Island, 269-276, 334; Shep- 
heard's Hotel, 2-3, 60, 311, 
313, 317; Wedding Proces- 
sion, 319-321; Whirling 
Dervishes, 289-293. 

Cambyses, 69, 218. 

Cleopatra, 57, 202. 

Colossi of Memnon, 214-220, 
228. 

Constantine, 57. 

Copts, 58, 103, 162, 278, 281- 
283. 

D 

Dance, 119-120, 131-133, 137- 

144, 192, 266, 292. 
Daughter of Pharaoh, 77, 

269, 272. 



363 



364 



Index 



Denderah, 194-206. 
Denshawai Affair, 83. 
Dervishes, 289-293. 
Diodorus, 224, 333. 
Divorce, 111. 

E 

Ebers, George, 275, 300-301. 

Edfu, 205, 246. 

Elamary (Bey), 165-174. 

Elamary (village of), 167. 

El Kedab, 55. 

El Kerimat, 84-100. 

El Mazata, 134-146, 188. 

El-Omary, 172-174, 176. 

F 
Fellaheen, 66, 79, 87, 103- 

113, 151, 192, 217, 218. 
Funchal, 29, 31-41. 
Funeral, 180-183. 
Fustat, 275. 

G 

Gibraltar, 6-7, 11, 28, 37, 41- 

45, 47. 

H 

Hadrian, 57, 216-218. 

Hasan, 161. 

Hatasu, 218. 

Hathor, 195-196, 199-203, 
250. 

Heliopolis, 68, 69, 335; tem- 
ple at, 68; Virgin's Tree, 
335. 

Herodotus, 68, 164, 333. 

Homer, 226. 



Horus, 204. 
Husein, 161. 
Hypatia, 59. 



Isis, 204, 240, 245. 



Jesus Christ, 356. 
John of Lycopolis, 162. 
Joseph, 68. 

Julius Caesar, 57, 202. 
Juvenal, 202, 217. 



Karnak, 3, 122, 215, 225 

228, 246. 
Khartoum, 64, 238. 
Khedive, 51, 126, 159, 257. 
Kom Ombo, 202, 204-210. 
Land of Cush, 176. 
Legrain, Georges, 224, 225. 
Libyan Desert, 76, 95, 119, 

164. 
Love Color of Egypt, 195. 
Luxor, 3, 122, 206, 215, 220, 

228. 
Lycopolis, 162. 

M 

Madeira, 10, 29-41, 44. 

Mahomet, 80. 

Mamelukes, 329-331, 332; 

tombs of, 331. 
Market, 81, 82. 
Marriage, 111. 
Maspero, Gaston, 231, 255, 

294-302. 



Index 



365 



Maydoom ( dwarf pyramid 

of) 54. 
Mecca, 28, 56, 112, 114. 
Memphis, 58, 224, 332, 334, 

349, 358; tombs of Apis 

bulls, 334. 
Menes, 224. 
Mines, 175, 176. 
Menieh, 123-133, 143. 
Mohammed Ali, 329-331. 
Moses, 77, 105, 108, 269, 

273-274, 276, 278. 
Mother of Jesus, 278, 280, 

356. 
Mummy, 147-148, 151-155, 

232, 297. 
Munkar, 183. 
Music, 119-120, 142-143,265, 

266, 292. 

N 

Nakir, 183. 

Nile, 2, 28, 55, 66, 70-74, 76, 
79, 88-89, 95, 101, 105- 
107, 108, 118, 122-123, 128, 
148, 152, 157-158, 164 178- 
179, 196, 197, 213, 332. 

No, 226. 

Nut, 162. 







On, 335. 
Osiris, 204. 



Palmyra, 57. 

Pharaoh's Bed, 213, 240, 
245. 



Pharaoh's Garden, 77, 272. 

Philse, 122, 213, 224, 240-248. 

Pillars of Hercules (see 
Gibraltar ) . 

Pliny, 333. 

Pompey's Pillar, 61. 

Ponta Delgada, 8, 12-13, 16, 
18, 27-28, 30. 

Pyramid, 56, 70, 349; Cheops, 
77, 342, 346, 348, 350-351, 
358; Chephren, 351;Gizeh, 
70, 76, 326, 337, 339, 343, 
344, 345, 347, 348, 349, 
352, 357; Maydoom, 54; 
Mycerinus, 351; Sakhara, 
297. 

R 

Ea-Harmachis, 354. 
Eailway, 63-68, 238, 239. 
Rhoda, 269, 274-276, 334. 

S 
Sabina, 217. 
Saint Mark, 58, 281. 
Sakieh, 108, 274. 
Saint Michael's, 12, 23, 26, 

27. 
Saladin, 326. 
Sand Diviner, 242-243. 
Sebek, 204-205, 207. 
Selim (holy sheik) 158, 159. 
Shaduf, 106, 198. 
Shellal, 185. 
Sinai, 175. 
Sphinx, 56, 67, 70, 296, 337, 

339, 340, 343, 352, 356, 

359. 



366 



Index 



Strabo, 69, 203, 


217, 226. 


W 




Sudan, 64. 




Wedi-Halfa, 41, 238, 

248. 


246- 


T 




Women, 109, 117-118, 


303- 


Tarifa, 45. 




311; of Fellaheen, 


109, 


Thebes, 58, 69 


215, 221- 


110-112. 




236; Colossi 


of Memnon, 






215-220, 228; 


Ramaseum, 






215, 218. 




Z 




Tusun, 330. 




Zenobia, 57. 





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